


Men's Eight

by hhoneycas



Series: Men's Eight [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Rowing, Supportive Sibling Sam Winchester, also i hate tagging, they spend so much time in starbucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 21:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17836448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhoneycas/pseuds/hhoneycas
Summary: Really, Dean had chosen the University of Washington for the aerospace engineering program and the baseball team. When he notices how hot the crew team members are, well, that’s just an added bonus. One of the rowers in particular, Castiel, works his way into Dean’s life fairly quickly and, suddenly, Dean has a massive crush to deal with.The new friend is great and Dean loves spending time with Cas, but, as with anything, Dean has to make several mistakes, suffer through quite a few miscommunications and take everyone down with him before things work themselves out. That is, if things work out at all.





	Men's Eight

**Author's Note:**

> This thing is my baby, so I wanna start by saying "thank you" to everyone who listened to me complain/screech/flail etc. about it and I hope everyone who reads it enjoys it at least a little because writing this was a...time. I’ve been working on this since July, so here it is, the long expansion of a two AM thought.
> 
> Also, HUGE thanks to [thevioletcaptain](http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/) for doing the wonderful [art](http://thevioletcaptain.tumblr.com/post/182917756578/art-for-mens-eight-by-the-lovely-hhoneycas) for this, it's all I've ever wanted.
> 
> Also, also, [thepopeisdope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepopeisdope) deserves everything for putting up with me and *offering* to beta this. You were such a huge help, I'll never be able to thank you properly.

He’d first seen them when he was running down the Ship Canal Trail one Saturday, trying to meet his cardio requirements. He was stopping for a breath when the weird, skinny boat passed him. Eight men, because really, they were _men_ , facing backwards and working their _asses_ off doing some sort of rowing. In the front of the boat a ninth, smaller, guy sat forward doing no obvious work. Dean had no clue what they were doing, but he did know that the guys he got brief glimpses of were really, really, _really_ hot. They looked to be mostly lean muscle and _all height._ They slowed down, just coasting across the water as the small guy talked, and Dean couldn’t help but stare at them. It was a brief pause and soon they were past him at full speed. Dean took off for his dorm soon after, fueled by curiosity.

Half an hour later, Dean walked into his and Kevin’s room, immediately grabbing a towel because Seattle did not give a single shit about it being the season of crisp breezes and sweatshirts, and it had rained. A lot.

“Hey,” he said, fluffing his hair with the towel, “what are those skinny boats down in the canal?”

“Canal? We have a canal?” Kevin barely looked up from his papers.

“In Fremont, I think?” Dean dropped on his bed, kicking his sneakers off.

“Oh, the Ship Canal!” Then Kevin turned to face Dean, amusement and confusion darting across his features. “Skinny boats? Like crew boats? You don’t know what crew boats look like?” There was a pause that was loaded with disbelief before Kevin blurted, “You go to the _University of Washington_ and you don’t know what crew boats look like?!” He said it like it was some sort of criminal offense.

“In my defense, up until a month ago, I lived in a very landlocked state.”

“Right, right. Anyways, why do you ask? Gonna join the crew team?” Kevin asked, not as interested as he sounded.

“No, just curious,” Dean said, pulling off his shirt and grabbing a new one.

“What kinda curiosity, Dean?” Kevin asked, suddenly interested again. He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Purely sexual, Kevin. I know hot guys when I see them.” He responded to Kevin’s dramatic dry-heaving with an equally dramatic wink.

“Well if you wanna know more, I’m not the guy. The internet or boathouse are your best options.”

“Boathouse?” Dean sat up, exchanging his sweaty shorts for jeans.

“Yeah, down by the fields.”

“Huh, okay.” He pulled on his boots and chose a dark blue flannel from his drawer. “I’m gonna go get coffee, want anything?”

“Enough espresso to kill me.”

“You got it.” With that, he walked out the door, complete with the knowledge that his roommate would probably never get his coffee.

___________________

 

The rain had subsided by the time he got to the boathouse. If it was a nice day, why not do some scouting? Or, if he was being realistic, obscene ogling. Dean checked his phone before climbing out of the car. 8:45. He had no idea how long a rowing practice went, but he hoped they weren’t moving too much faster than him so he could at least see if his absurd attraction was justified. If worse came to worst he could bullshit some lie about being here for baseball. Maybe he should’ve stayed in his running gear, his jeans looked out of place. Well, too late to worry about that now.

He was about to get back into his car and blame the early morning and endorphins for this dumbass stunt when the first wave of rowers walked out. One look proved his suspicions correct. Every guy that stepped out of that building had a good two inches on Dean and about six hundred percent the muscle. Sure, Dean had legs and a hell of a throwing arm, but even the brief glimpse he got had proved that a day of this rowing thing was more of a full body workout than Dean got in a week.

One guy, dark haired, about the same height as Dean and wearing sweats that were shockingly flattering, walked out with the small guy from the front of the boat next to him.

“You’re a great rower,” the little guy said.

The taller one turned to him. “And you a great coxswain.”

_Cock son? What the hell?_ Maybe Dean had less of a grasp on the sport than he thought. He was pulled out of his thoughts when the guy stopped at the car next to Dean’s, still talking to the short kid, but standing six feet away from him all the same.

His luck faded when the next guy walked out of the building. This guy he’d met at orientation, and Dean had hated him from the moment he’d introduced himself by his last name. _Who the fuck does that? Ugh._ Dean tried his best to hide his face in his cell phone. Not surprisingly, he failed. Ketch walked up to him, a pompous air in his step that Dean had always suspected to stem from overcompensation. The spandex shorts Ketch wore revealed Dean’s suspicions to be true.

“Winchester. I thought you were a baseball player?” His voice had the same ‘I’m better than you’ way about it that Dean’s skin crawl.

“That’s the baseball field isn’t it?” Dean asked, jutting a thumb towards the stadium behind them.

“Baseball’s a spring sport isn’t it?” Ketch parroted Dean’s tone, just asking to get one of the several baseballs Dean kept in his trunk hurled at his smug face _._ Dean wanted to say something witty, but Ketch got his words out first. “What are you really doing here?”

“Waiting for someone,” Dean said, ignoring his inner monologue. _I could be waiting for a nice hookup if it wasn’t nine in the morning and I wasn’t staring at your dumb face, but I guess we’ve_ all _gotta suffer, right?_

“Oh who are you waiting for, Dean?” Ketch pushed.

And then, either because of his way-too-sex-focused-for-it-being-nine-AM brain or just his lack of a verbal filter, he pointed at the dark haired man who had just started putting his bag in the trunk of the next car over and said, “Him.”

Both Ketch’s and the mystery guy’s heads snapped up in response. “Castiel. You’re waiting for Castiel?” Ketch glanced skeptically between him and ‘Castiel’.

Dean looked at the guy with something he hoped sent the message of ‘Oh my god I’m so sorry please help me I’ll pay your rent (if you pay rent), just play along’, before saying simply to Ketch, “Yeah, Cas and I are great friends.”

“Yes, Arthur, why would you think we weren’t friends?” Cas said, calmly walking over to Dean, who couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath of air

“It’s hard to believe a flimsy lie,” Ketch said. “How would you meet the Kansan anyways?”

“Not everyone you meet at orientation is an asshole, Ketch!” Dean flashed the cheesiest smile he could before turning to Cas. “Starbucks on Stevens and Jefferson, right?”

“Yes, right.” Cas smiled, and they both climbed into their cars, leaving the angry Englishman behind them.

 

When Dean pulled up to the Starbucks on Stevens and Jefferson, the last thing he expected was to see Castiel’s ugly tan car in his rear view mirror, but apparently, today was full of surprises. He got out of his car and carefully positioned himself in a way that he hoped gave him a cool vibe.

“Well, well, well… Fancy seeing you here.” He smiled at his accomplice, but his brain still fired off criticism. _Way to go man. I think you’ve won the award for least original opener. Dumbass._

The guy, Cas, looked at him and pointed at the street sign. “Well you said Starbucks on Stevens and Jefferson, so I’m here.” Then he smiled at him. It was a soft smile that drifted across his face, as if he was amused by what he saw in Dean.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come, considering I made you lie to Ketch.” Dean walked up to him, hands in his pockets and shoulders at his ears.

“I figured for making me lie to my teammate, you at least owe me a cup of coffee.” Cas shrugged. He looked down and back up at Dean, his face sudden devoid of all confidence and a pinkish color crawling persistently up his cheeks. “And maybe your name?”

“Dean. I’m Dean,” he said, extending a hand.

After shaking it, Cas walked passed Dean and pulled open the door. “After you, money man,” Cas said gesturing inside the coffee shop.

“Why thank you, gold digger.” He flashed a smile at Cas, who gaped after him.

One he’d regained his composure, Cas walked up to and leaned over the counter, now leaving Dean speechless. Dean found his brain rushing to think about unsexy things and while most guys thought about baseball, Dean, who’d had experience up close and personal with baseball player ass, did not have that luxury. So he suffered, staring at the _rower’s_ ass until the rower’s _voice_ pulled him violently out of his trance.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” He looked down at Cas who was looking up at him with bright blue, blinking eyes.

“How many shots of espresso should I get? They’re $1.75 each and I want to milk you for all you’re worth.”

_God, please do._ Gaining control of his brain, Dean turned to the menu. “Try to limit the ex-presso to less than my college fund?”

Before he could turn back to Castiel, a violent gasp from behind the counter pulled his attention to the barista.

“What?” he asked, eyes widening. “Me? Did I say something?” He looked around, nearing actual panic.

“Yeah!” The red-haired girl gaped at him, just on the right side of angry. “You said _ex-_ presso!”

“Yeah? And?”

“Are you from here?” she asked, still gaping.

“Let’s just say,” Cas interrupted, “he’s not in Kansas anymore, Charlie.”

Dean just rolled his eyes until something clicked in his brain. “You know her?” he asked, jealousy flying out of his mouth despite only _just_ having met the guy.

Cas directed his attention to Dean. He spoke in a calm voice that diffused the tension in Dean’s veins, “Dean, I wake up at five AM to row for two hours. It would be an understatement to say that I am a loyal customer of this particular Starbucks.”

“Oh.” Dean looked at his feet, folding under Castiel’s gaze.

“I’ll have a venti coffee, black. I won’t finish it, but Dean’s paying. And you know my name.” He smiled at Charlie and turned to Dean. _Oh yeah, that’s not gonna fly,_ Dean thought, his possessive brain taking over despite a foreseeable zero percent chance of him ever actually dating Cas.

“Grande vanilla latte, please and thank you. Oh, and I’m Dean.” He handed his card over to Charlie, who leveled him with a still glare as she scrawled his name on the cup.

“No _ex-_ presso then?” she drawled, dry and bitter. Dean looked back with wide eyes. She continued to stare at him, expression emotionless until the corners of her mouth curled up in a barely there smile, giving her away.

“Not today,” he said, forcing a laugh.

“Alright. Just don’t come in here saying ‘pellow’ or ‘melk’ and we won’t have a problem.” She handed him back his card.

Getting into the conversation, Dean said, “I can try. But I can’t promise we will agree on how to say ‘Colorado’.” Charlie’s laugh brought a smile to his face as she waved them away, now talking to other customers.

“I like her,” Dean said to Cas as they waited.

“She’s gay. If that was your intention by saying ‘like’ then you’re sorry out of luck, but if you would like to be her friend then I can give you her number.”

“Well the single case celibacy and the new friend are both okay with me.” Dean smiled easily as he handed Cas his phone.

“Don’t you mean friends? Plural?”

“Huh?”

“I’m offended you wouldn’t think of me as a friend after you forced me to lie and I am now, essentially, pimping coffee from you.” He handed the phone back to Dean, holding up a simple hand when Dean fumbled to hand it back. “It’s in there already, don’t worry.”

He could only stare at Castiel as they both picked up their coffee, wondering what the hell went on inside the busy mind to make him kind, snarky, and so…  something else Dean couldn’t land on.

“So Dean,” Cas looked at him from behind his to-go cup. “How long have you been in Seattle?”

“Well it’s like late September right?” Cas nodded. “So, like almost a month? I moved into my dorm early September. What about you?”

“I moved from Chicago and stayed with Charlie,” he waved at the barista, who’d popped her head up at her name, before continuing, “for most of the summer, now I’m in my dorm.”

“Why’d you come early?” Dean pushed off the counter, dragging Cas by his elbow to a table.

“Combination of a bad family life and need to practice.” He took a slow sip from his coffee.

“So, I bet you know all the good places,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows.

“Depends on what you like, I guess,” he said, shrugging.

“Burgers, baseball, movies, cowboys, pretty girls and hot guys.” He rattled off the list like it was prepared, smiling at Cas proudly when he’d finished.

“Burgers?” Cas asked, raising an eyebrow. “I think I have the place for you.” With that, he stood and walked out the door.

“Oh, do you now?” Dean called as he followed Cas out the door. “I’m driving,” he said and grabbed Cas’ elbow once again before he could walk to his car.

To his credit, Cas let himself be yanked along despite his probable ability to break any of Dean’s bones at a moments’ notice. “You are?”

“Of course I am, look at her.” Dean gestured to his car and earned all of a mild ‘huh’ from Cas. “Wow, she and I are going to have to earn your appreciation then?”

“Maybe so, but you do have all day.” Cas climbed into the car and left Dean smirking on the sidewalk.

____________________

 

“Don’t take my phone from me!” Cas yelped, nearly crawling over Dean to get the device back. He’d pulled it out to get directions and shielded the screen from Dean. Of course, he was having none of it. He’d tried everything from “I don’t like surprises” to taking the phone from Cas but ended up following Cas’ directions until they pulled into the parking lot of a drive in burger place.

“Do you have a five dollar bill on you?” Cas asked, climbing out of the car.

“Yeah, is that gonna be enough? Burgers aren’t cheap, Cas.”

“Normally, no, but here? Yes.” He walked around to Dean’s side and pulled him out of the car, bouncing with weird excitement as they got in line. Dean had been too preoccupied beforehand to notice, but there were orange Christmas lights spelling _Dick’s_ on the awning. There were four windows behind each of which were students about the same age as Dean and Cas. On top of that, there were lots of people.

“Cas, we should bail, it looks busy.”

“No!” Cas turned on him. “This place is great and we aren’t leaving until you try it!” He spoke with an almost childlike insistence, pushing Dean forward every time the line moved.

When they reached the front of the line, Cas turned to Dean. “You want everything on it?” Dean nodded. “Something to drink?”

“Sure, coke or something.” He leaned his back up against the counter while Cas ordered.

“Two fries, two cheeseburgers, a deluxe, a medium sprite and a medium coke.” He handed the guy a twenty dollar bill and smiled at him a little too friendly for Dean’s taste.

_Ugh, no, accept that this is basically a date even though neither of us have discussed it and smile at_ me _that way, you super attractive loser._ Dean shook his head, trying to ignore the intrusive thoughts.

“Hey,” he tapped Cas on the arm, “we should probably get out of line and let the next person go.”

“Or we could just go,” Cas suggested, holding up the to-go bag that seemed to have just appeared in his hands.

“Woah. Cool.”

“I agree.” Cas smiled at him as they walked back to the car. “Can we eat in here or is she too precious to risk spilling ketchup on?”

“Nah, you can eat but if you do spill, you’re buying gas for a week and she gets some god awful mileage.”

“Good to know.”

There was a comfortable silence as they both ate. They made eye contact a few times, laughing like elementary schoolers every time.

Eventually they started talking, spitting ice breakers back and forth. He learned that Cas planned to major in Religious Studies, that he had three brothers and a sister, all in different schools, and that he’d been rowing since the eighth grade. Cas had actually laughed out loud when Dean had asked him more about the sport.

“I’m serious, Cas!” He’d nearly yelled, hitting the man across from him with their pile of napkins. “What’s a ‘cock son’? I really hope I’m grossly misinterpreting it, and that it doesn’t mean ‘dick child’”

Once he’d recovered from his laughing fit, Cas explained that a coxswain was a coach-like team leader and that he was usually a shrimpy guy or a smaller girl. Cas had looked up a couple times during his explanation, afraid he was boring Dean six ways from Sunday, only to find him staring curiously at Cas, one leg up on the leather seat, an elbow on his knee, and his chin resting on the heel of his hand. “Keep going, sounds cool,” he’d prompted when Cas paused. HE moved on to explain the rest of the boat and his position.

“I’m a six, which is part of the ‘engine room’ or the four strongest rowers seated in the middle.”

“Ooh,” Dean teased, “best of the best.”

“For the sake of the team I would hope so. This school has quite a reputation.” Cas looked down at his hands, swallowing hard.

“Hey, Cas, look at me.” Dean surprised himself with his tender tone. He rested a hand on Cas’ knee and the other man looked up. “They picked you right?” Cas had mentioned being scouted and his four year scholarship. Cas nodded. “Then you’re gonna be just fine.” He gave him a soft smile and they returned to their comfortable silence from before, Dean not wanting to move his hand and Cas not protesting.

“Cas, I’ve got a question,” Dean said after a couple minutes, finally pulling his hand away.

“Yes, I have one too.” Cas looked up at him patiently. He began delicately folding the paper wrappers around them.

“You go first.”

“Alright, why are you calling me Cas?”

Dean paused, blinking slowly as he thought. “It’s more personal,” he decided, “I needed Ketch to think I was your close friend, right? Why not call you something that sounds a little more familiar than whatever he called you?”

“Castiel, yes.”

“It’s an interesting name,” Dean said, picking up his drink. “Do you mind if I call you Cas?”

“No,” Cas said after a beat. “I like it. It’s comfortable.”

“Alright, here’s my question: why are you hanging out with me? Dragging me around town?”

Cas took his turn to pause. Dean watched him warily, brain racing to come up with scenarios where Cas would realize in this moment that he _didn’t_ want to hang around Dean. Instead of all that though, he smiled.

“I like you,” he stated simply and Dean’s heart fluttered a little more than he’d like to admit. “You’re a very ‘ballsy’ person, judging by how you just told me I was your friend, but you’re also fun and adventurous, going off of how you’ve been following me around when I very well could have been a serial killer this whole time.” He laughed a little at the corny joke.

Dean laughed too but, internally, he shone with pride. He’d been told these things about himself before but coming from Cas - attractive, athletic, funny, Cas - it was a bit different. Different for reasons Dean wasn’t sure he’d come to terms with. Sure, he could say that he was attracted to him because, look at the guy, but liking him as much as the most suppressed parts of himself would dare to admit? After one day? It seemed implausible at the very least. On top of that, it wasn’t his style. He was Dean Winchester, stay the night then leave before they got out of the shower. Sporty and sought after. He wasn’t soft smiles and emotions. It was weird.

He shook his head a little before putting himself back into the conversation. “I don’t know Cas, maybe you are a serial killer, maybe you poisoned my food!” He looked frantically at the shiny orange wrapper and threw his hand up to his chest, gasping for effect. “Did you poison my food?!”

Cas came back with an equally over-dramatic gasp and comically wide eyes. “Dean how dare you accuse me of such a thing?! I thought we were friends.” With that he fell into poorly done fake crying that soon devolved into laughter that Dean couldn’t help but join into. Eventually, Cas looked at his phone and they got pulled into the real world.

“Oh, shit! I have to go!” He met Dean’s curious gaze and explained himself, “My cousin and I are meeting for lunch, although I think it’s more of a ‘explain yourself and your bad choices, Castiel’ kind of lunch more than anything else, but an obligation is such.” He shrugged and turned toward the car door until Dean’s hand snatched his elbow for the third time that day.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going? I drove you here, I’m driving you back.”

“Oh, well thank you, Dean.”

“No problem.” _Just take me to lunch after and then fall in love with me._ Ugh, why couldn’t his thoughts go back to being sexual? He wasn’t good with this emotion shit. _Think about baseball, think about baseball_.

“Where we going?” He cast a look at Castiel that just screamed for a wink and a sarcastic answer of “Bonetown” but Dean feared his downstairs brain had a little too much control at this point so he just remained quiet.

“You’re taking me to my car since you so kindly demanded we take yours,” Cas said.

“Oh, shit, right.” He let a weak laugh escape. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry, just don’t leave me on the side of the road and all will be forgiven.”

With a nod, Dean put the address for the Starbucks back into his phone and drove off.

On the way, Castiel asked a little bit more about Dean, and so he told him about his brother and how he had his dreams of a law practice and Dean had had a lot of time to kill.

“So I started solving problems. I liked making things and fixing them, and in junior year one of my teachers said ‘airplanes’ and here I am. Jet City.” He turned the car off and looked at Cas.

“An aeronautical engineer then?” Cas aksed, making no move to leave the vehicle.

“Hopefully that and a baseball player, but I don’t know.”

“Dean,” Cas leaned forward, parroting the same comforting _hand on knee_ that Dean had given him earlier, “people are multifaceted individuals. If I can participate in one of the most physically demanding sports, while also learning all there is to know about the thirty thousand Christian sects without dying of boredom or heat exhaustion, you can do anything. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a mildly homophobic lunch to attend.” He unclipped his seatbelt and climbed out of the car.

“Wait, what?” But Cas was already out of the car and waving at him through the windshield. Dean took a minute to think about what Cas had said. _I should rescue him. Knight in shining armor._ He paused, rethinking and realizing that was probably the world’s worst idea considering how little he knew about Cas. _He’s probably not even gay or bi or anything. Not all guys are gay, dude. No matter how much you want them to be._ He’d most likely run in there, screaming about how Cas’ cat had died, only to find out Cas was allergic to cats. _Huh, then we’d have something in common._ No, it was a terrible idea. He opted instead for pulling his phone and texting him.

 

**Dean: Let me know if it’s any good :)**

 

_There, easy, breezy, beautiful. Covergirl. Whatever._ He was done, he could pull out of the little lot with the fact that his last interaction, possibly forever, with Castiel was not him mumbling like he’d forgotten how to function.

He’d gotten a block away when his phone lit up beside him.

 

**Castiel Novak: The food or the conversation?**

 

Dean smiled down at his phone. The message was great, but one thing had to change. No way in hell was this guy going to be immortalized in his phone as “Castiel”. He fixed it at the red light.

Twenty minutes later, after having just settled into his Scientific Computing homework, Dean saw his handiwork and a new text message appear on the screen.

 

**Cas (The Hot Rower): The bread sitting at our table is fantastic, and my company is amicable. Even more so now that she’s in the restroom, but it’s going smoothly.**

 

**Dean: I expect an in depth review of the meal and your date.**

 

Another notification popped up as he set the phone down. Unfortunately, Dean’s grades remained only slightly more important than any boyfriend prospect, so he ignored it.

His phone buzzed about three times while he took a break for the sake of his retinas, so he flipped it over and looked at the screen. It was the barista from the Starbucks, texting him boldly for never having met him before today.

 

**Charlie Bradbury: where did u and cas go after u left?**

**Charlie Bradbury: better not b fucking behind the bleachers, this isn’t high school anymore**

**Charlie Bradbury: don’t steal my friend from me, mr. enamored**

 

Yeah Dean wasn’t going to risk answering any of those except the third one.

 

**Dean: Wasn’t my intention.**

 

**Charlie Bradbury: if u start dating him i get first dibs on all his time**

 

**Dean: Won’t happen but ok.**

 

**Charlie Bradbury: :)**

 

Cas texted him an hour after that.

 

**Cas (The Hot Rower): Conversation wasn’t as poor as I thought, thankfully, but the food was wonderful. I highly recommend it.**

 

**Dean: Good news all around! I’ll have to try it sometime**

________________

 

And that was it for about a week until Dean went to a place called the Red Door and notified Cas about it.

 

**Dean: Red Door in Fremont. Fucking fantastic.**

 

**Cas (The Hot Rower): Do you only eat burgers, Dean?**

 

**Dean: ….Maybe.**

 

**Cas (The Hot Rower): I would be ashamed in you if I wasn’t the exact same way :)**

 

Cas texted his approval about a week later. That was the only communication the two of them had, just texting each other recommendations of various places and activities. Dean learned that the Laser Dome was having Laser Zeppelin thanks to Cas, and he found out that Cas _really_ liked the top of the Space Needle even though he said that he “felt like a tourist the whole time”.

Sometimes they spoke about more meaningful stuff, like Cas’ family or Dean’s childhood. Still, no matter what it was they were talking about, the longer they talked, the more Dean felt an emotional pull towards Cas. It kind of sucked. Sure, texting Cas was great, but Dean just didn’t have the balls to say, “You know one thing I really like? You. Date me.” So, he found a happy medium between radio silence and courtship: stopping at the Starbucks on Stevens and Jefferson after every scheduled crew practice. He wasn’t obsessed, just desperate and not above a little falsified circumstance. The other option was to just text Cas and ask him to hang out again but that, that was excessive. For some reason. Whatever. Dean had never had impeccable logic and a good track record wasn’t going to start then, especially after all that coffee.

 

One bonus of his daily coffee shop trips was Dean’s new friend, Charlie. They’d started talking, and Dean was pretty sure she just thought Dean liked the coffee, so he kept talking to her and they got along. They had similar senses of humor which led to some fairly entertaining conversations as Dean waited for his coffee. Sometimes, after her shift ended, she came over to chat while he did his homework. It was great. Until it wasn’t.

In November, about a month after he’d met Cas, because that was how he was calculating time now, she approached him after her shift and asked what he was doing that Friday.  
“Nothing, why?” he asked, barely looking up from his physics work.

“Cas and I are going to see Venom and then we’re getting dinner, do you wanna come?”

Dean only stared at her. _Do it, dude, this removes the whole “asking him” factor, just do it. Nike. Whatever._ “Sure?” Agreeing did not decrease his anxiety at all but at least he was going to see Cas again and at least he had three days to psych himself up. He’d be fine.

“Great! See you then!” And then she was out the door, leaving Dean alone to consider his actions. Okay, so it wasn’t _that_ weighty, but still, it felt like a big deal.

____________________

 

Somehow, Dean made it to Friday. In fact, Friday found him feeling pretty damn good. He had a little bit of confidence, he looked good, and he was ready to face the world, Castiel included. They had decided to meet up Downtown, and Dean ended up paying eleven fucking dollars for parking only to tap his foot nervously as he waited in the lobby for his friends. Charlie showed up first, her hoodie and Star Trek tee a nice comfortable contrast form the khaki's of her uniform. She greeted him with a high five that was altogether satisfying as it rang through the empty room. Unfortunately, it was followed by a silence nothing short of awkward.

“Cas should be here any minute,” she mentioned, finally ending the silence and turning to him, “but more importantly, are you excited for this movie?”

“Dude, Tom Hardy, fuck yes.” He’d honestly been thinking about seeing the movie on his own, awkward situation be damned but then Charlie had invited him and now there were _two_ reasons for Dean to pop an awkward boner in the middle of the dark theater. _Yay._

It was about then that Cas walked through the door and Dean lost all ability for coherent thought. Some people, like Charlie, tried a little less on their days off. _Apparently,_ people like Cas were a little more put together. He walked in in black jeans and a white button up under what looked like the softest sweater ever. It looked comfortable, but that or otherwise, he looked _good_.

Thankfully, before Dean could actually start drooling, Charlie spoke.

“Look who finally showed up! Let’s go!”

“Hello to you too, Charlie. I’m sorry I’m late, parking is horrible here.”

“Just ask me for a ride next time,” Dean piped up. “I’m down to drive.”

“You never go anywhere with us, Dean,” Cas pointed out. “Which is why it’s _quite a surprise_ you’re joining us here,” he directed an angry glare at Charlie, “but I’m glad you’re here.” Then there was one of those smiles that made Dean’s legs go wiggly.

Charlie must have noticed Dean smiling back like the dope he was, because she grabbed each of their hands and pulled them to the counter.

When they walked in the theater she pulled them once again to the center of the room. “Cas, you’re in the middle.”

With a nod, Cas took his seat and looked expectantly at Dean until he took his place beside him.

“There is no one here,” Cas observed.

Charlie just shrugged, “It’s been out for awhile.”

“More space for us,” Dean added.

They chatted through all of the trailers, Dean pointing out the ones he wanted to see, Charlie talking about which girls she wanted to take to dinner, and Cas nodding along, occasionally commenting along with either.

The movie was mostly uneventful except for Cas nonchalantly taking popcorn from Dean every so often and making his heart leap into his throat.

Dinner was another story.

They were seated in a booth at a Thai place one building over, just digging into their food when Charlie said, “I forgot to mention it earlier, Cas, I like your sweater.” It was a nice compliment and Dean was about to agree with the sentiment when Cas said,

“Thank you, I’m not sure how much I like it though. I don’t think it looks good on me.” He brushed a hand down the front of it and something about the way he stared down at it disapprovingly made Dean open his mouth.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you, I mean, look at you.” He only took notice of his glaringly obvious words of affection when Charlie spit her ice tea everywhere and Cas nearly choked on his Pad Thai.

Charlie was the first to recover and to subsequently cover for Dean as she mopped up her drink. “He’s not wrong.”

“True,” Cas conceded for a moment of Dean’s relief and then added, “you’re most likely the best judge, Dean, considering you look good in most things as well.” He gestured to Dean’s own dark wash jeans and deep green hoodie.

Dean couldn’t tell if he had rice noodles or his words caught in his throat but either way the comment caught him off guard and the only response he could choke out was a feeble, “Thank you.”

Any hint of embarrassment was washed away with the next conversation topic, and Dean managed to enjoy lunch with his friends.

An hour later, they split the check and went their separate ways, or Charlie separated, Dean and Cas returned to the parking lot.

“You parked next to my car?”

“It’s recognizable, I’ll never forget this way,” Cas said.

“Dude,” he leveled his friend with a look, “your car is ugly as hell, it’s pretty recognizable.”

Dean received his own look. He shrunk back to grab his door handle and was about to offer his pleasantries when there was a hand on his shoulder and he was facing Cas again.

“Wait, Dean.”

“Yeah?” Concern somehow worked its way into the nooks and crannies of Dean’s voice as he scanned his friend's face.

“Do you still want to be friends with me?”

Well _that_ wasn’t what he was expecting. “Of course, Cas, why wouldn’t I?”

Cas almost shrunk down, curling in on himself in that anxious kind of defensive Dean knew well. “I just haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Cas, we text every day.”

“But I don’t _see_ you. There’s a difference.”

Dean reached out a hand to grab Cas’ arm. _Holy shit that’s the softest sweater ever and also totally not the point, dude._ “I’ll be better, I promise.”

“Really?” Cas looked skeptical.

“I promise.”

Cas gave him a smile that lit up his whole heart, then gave him a little wave that made it jump.

_Breaking promises is no way to start a friendship._ Oh, if only he could just listen to his heart do somersaults and drown out his brain with rock music, maybe life would be a little less complicated.

___________________

 

On one of his not-so-surreptitious trips to Starbucks, two weeks after the movie, he was called out in nothing short of a brutal way. He was leaning up against the counter, almost Terminator scanning the room, when Charlie called a name he wasn’t expecting.

“Cas?” He heard the sound of a coffee cup hitting the counter behind him and spun around quickly as he could, only to face Charlie’s glaring eyes. “Oh sorry! I got the name wrong. This one’s for ‘Desperate Bastard’.”

Dean took the coffee, glaring lightly at Charlie.

She laughs at him as she starts the next drink. “You’ve got it bad, man.”

“Don’t tell him,” Dean pleads, lamely.

She looks up at him with a look that screams, ‘duh’ but nods anyways. “Ya know,” she says after a beat, “if you want to see him, you could go to the party.”

“What?” Parties weren’t really his thing, shocking as it was to his friends. He prefered to go out to dinner or for drinks, not be stuck between bodies and overwhelmed by noise. He _certainly_ didn’t want to go to a party where he knew _zero_ people just to find Cas among his crew friends and uncaring of Dean.

“It’s not a crew party,” Charlie reassured him. “Our friend Kevin’s hosting it in his dorm space. In the McMahon building.”

Dean looked up from his coffee. “That’s my building. Kevin. Like Kevin Tran?”

Charlie nodded.

“My roommate? Cas is going to be at a ‘party’ at my goddamn dorm? When?!” Dean was standing now, clutching his coffee like it was the holy grail and panicking like he’d chosen poorly.

“Next Saturday,” Charlie said, the words slipping out of her mouth as if she was completely unaware of how wholly fucked Dean was.

“A week from now? Oh my god.” He turned to Charlie, eyes wide. “What am I gonna do?”

“Well you could hmm, let me think, not be in your dorm?” There was the look again. “But really, you should go. He ‘misses you’ or whatever, it’s gross. You’re not even dating yet.” She momentarily refocused her attention on the latte in front of her and chose to ignore Dean’s stare. Eventually he wore her down. “Yes, Gapey. He misses you, all you ever do is text him and he hates it. ‘Friends don’t just text’, he says, which is weird because he said it over text but anyways, go to the goddamn party and get out of here, I have to work. College ain’t cheap.” She started swatting at him before he could finish  gathering his thoughts. He grabbed his coffee, that actually said ‘desperate bastard’ on the side and got in his baby, deciding pretty quickly that he was going to go to that party.

__________________

 

“Hey Kevin. Are you having a Christmas party in our dorm next week? One that you didn’t tell me about?” Dean laced a false dismissiveness in his voice as he asked the questions.

“Yep. I was gonna tell you when you got back, but now you’re back and you’ve got it figured out so I don’t need to.” Kevin turned in his chair, like an angry business mogul.

“Who’re you inviting?” God it was like every single shitty magazine article ever. _10 Great Ways To Hint That You Want To Get In Your Roommate’s Friend’s Pants Without Being Blatantly Obvious._

“Couple friends and some of the guys down the hall. Of course I have to invite the guys in the other three rooms unless I want them to blacklist me, so they’re coming.” Kevin shrugged and turned back to his desk, the conversation obviously over.

Dean pulled out his phone and opened his conversation with Cas then closed it. He wasn’t gonna let him know he was going to be there. If Cas knew Kevin then he knew Dean was Kevin’s roommate, so there was no point. With no reason to talk to Cas, Dean fell on his bed, defeated. No point in doing anything except waiting.

___________________

 

Dean had been waiting for four days and he was simultaneously relieved and stressed. Relieved that he didn’t have to worry about seeing Cas yet and stressed that he was going to see Cas in three days.

He was also stressed because he had a physics test that Friday. That's why he was in the library on Wednesday, headphones in and face buried in his textbook and note cards. He was thoroughly immersed in his formulas when someone sat down across from him. He was going to politely ask them to move when he looked up to see that it was Cas. _He really has to move, he might be a worse distraction than some pencil tapping moron or my own brain._ But that was the thing, he couldn’t ask Cas to move, that would be rude.

Instead, he settled on, “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean. Long time no see.” _Ooh, that stung_. “What are you working on?”

“Physics. I’ve got this lady Doctor Hess and I basically want to die, it’s so hard. What about you?”

“English. You never know how little you know until your professor tells you she’s going to quiz you on all the literary devices and that she very literally means all of them.” Cas laughs at himself, then he looks down at the long list he’s pulled from his bag and frowns.

“Sounds rough.” _Nice. Great job. A+ consolation there, Dean. You’ve done good._

Cas looks up at him and smiles, everything in his features soft. “Quite, but your work does too, so I’ll wish you luck and leave you to it.”

That was that for twenty minutes, note cards flipping and the Lord of the Rings soundtrack the only sounds Dean heard. Eventually, his stagnant position wasn’t going to sustain him any longer and he had to shift. Unfortunately, the way his body wanted to shift was to cross his legs and even more unfortunately, if he did so, his foot would be touching Cas’ leg. _Like footsie without the… footsie._ There was no doubt in his mind that it was going to be super awkward but on the other hand, was it? _Fuck it._ He moved his legs and the only response he got was Cas looking up and instigating a twenty second period of eye contact that only ended when the music in his ears changed to a song he had to skip, pulling his attention away from Cas.

They re-settled into that same comfortable half silence until Cas started packing up his things. He tapped Dean’s hand that was lying on the table with his pencil, making him look up. “Will you be at the party Saturday? I, well, I haven’t seen you in awhile.” Dean could feel his heart clench, reminding him in no subtle way of the promise he’d broken.

“Yeah.” He said and offered a soft smile up at him. The way Cas’ eyes lit up at his answer overwhelmed the guilt with some sort of weird joy over the fact that Cas wanted him there. _That was what that question meant, right? Actually, don’t think about it too hard, you’ll disappoint yourself._

“I’m glad to hear it. I will see you there, Dean.” He grabbed his backpack and when he walked out, Dean couldn’t help but watch him leave.

“See ya, Cas.”

Forty-five minutes, almost one hundred words spoken, and Dean was more excited than he ever would have expected.

___________________

 

Soon enough, Saturday came, and so did Dean’s four PM Gen Chem class. Not the most fun considering it was a two hour class, but he’d take what he could get. He took his seat in the middle of the room and pulled out his laptop.

“Why are you looking at the crew roster? Got a crush?”

Dean closed the tab he’d opened last night, unashamedly thirsting while Kevin had been at the library. “Shut it, Ketch.”

“Ooh, let me guess.”

“Go away, dude.” Dean glared at Ketch’s head as he took a seat in front of him.

It was about four minutes into the lecture when he turned around.

“Is it your fake friend, Castiel?” he whispered.

“Ketch, shut the hell up, it’s not Cas. And plus, he and I are great friends, you dick.” He gritted his teeth, a little too eager to defend his friendship with Cas.

“Well you admit that it is someone. That’s a start.”

“Dude, be quiet, I’m taking notes,” Dean lied, afraid he might overshare if Ketch kept asking questions.

“The PowerPoint is online and anyone who graduated high school knows the basics of hydrogen bonds, now who is it?”

“No. One.” Dean refocused on his keyboard, ignoring Ketch long enough to get him to turn around. The rest of the lecture was peaceful, until Ketch opened his mouth again as they were leaving the hall.

“Whatever you do, sleep with him,” Ketch said far too plainly for the contents of his sentence. He left no time for Dean to be shocked before continuing, “He’s taking his pent up sexual rage out during land days and he’s beaten my two thousand time.” And then he walked away. Simple as that. Dean stood in the corridor briefly absorbing the Brit’s gibberish rowing vocab and eventually he brushed his words off as Ketch trying to get a rise out of him. Either way, no point in worrying about it right now, Charlie had roped him into helping decorate and he’d be damned to hell if he didn’t show, but he had to make a stop first.

 

When he did show up, it was like the place had transformed. Charlie had hung up striped sheets over each of the beige walls and had covered everything else from the plastic cups to the card table by the wall in bright green and red. Kevin sat on the couch, which had also been draped in blanket with little christmas trees on it, connecting little paper snowmen onto strings.

“You’re late,” Charlie accused when the door opened, but her eyes and energy were more focused on stringing little candy cane lights together.

“I stopped for a burger, sue me.” Dean swung his bag off his shoulder and paused to survey the room, his eyes landing on Charlie, who’s attention was now laser focused on Dean.

“Where’d you go?” Charlie asked.

“That took you an hour?” Kevin said at the same time.

“What?”

“For your burger?” She slowly set down her string of lights. “Where’d you go?”

“Uh, Dick’s?” Dean doesn’t answer Kevin’s question because the answer was that he spent about thirty minutes on the phone with Sam making sure Ketch, who for some reason had an _arsenal_ of tech and money behind him, hadn’t hacked his thirst searches for the crew roster. Then he had spent a subsequent ten minutes defending Cas’ crew photo, and saying that purple was indeed a good color on him.

“Okay,” Charlie muttered, pulling Dean back into real life, “Cause the crew team was going to Burgermaster after their Erg relay and I was just making sure you hadn’t gone all psycho on him.”

Dean scoffed. _I’m not_ that _crazy. Right?_

“Anyways,” Kevin said, stepping between the two of them, “let’s stop talking about Cas before he actually gets here and Dean has to cower in his room, hiding both his feelings and a raging erection.”

“Well for that comment I might not even help,” Dean joked, trying to hide the blush rising on his face by walking towards the door to his and Kevin’s room. Spurred into action once again, Kevin grabbed Dean’s shoulder, pulling him back into the tiny room.

“Nope, you’re helping.” Kevin reached down and grabbed a large green box. “Terrace,” he said, pointing. Reluctantly, Dean took the box, and walked out onto the terrace.

In the box, there were the usual suspects: reindeer with little light up noses, blinking lights, fake holly garland and whatnot. Then, there was a full sized plaster skeleton. A little more unusual, but with a santa hat it would fit. Dean put her on the chair. Well, okay, he didn’t know she was a ‘her’ but the severe lack of _something_ between her legs had Dean assuming and subsequently wondering whether or not his dick would leave any remains. He turned to ask his resident medicinal technology major only to find her inches away from his face.

“Hey, Charlie.”

“Guess what you’re not going to do tonight?” she said. “You aren’t going to follow Cas around like a puppy, but you aren’t gonna ignore him either. He’s tired, and he wants to see his friends.”

“You make it sound like we’re divorced,” Dean said, laughing barely, the idea of marrying Cas constricting his heart too much to function.

“That would at least be explicable,” Charlie muttered, turning away. She paused just before the door, “Oh and Dean?” He looked up, expecting something either profound or akin to Ketch’s earlier plea. Instead, she looked from him to the skeleton flopped over on the plastic chair and said, “She’s got a big pelvis, she’s a girl.”

 

Cas showed up thirty minutes later, and Dean was still on the terrace taping candy canes around the sliding door.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said from behind him, making Dean jump.

“Oh, hey, Cas.” Dean put up a hand in an awkward half-wave.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve talked.” Cas looked down at his feet, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his sweatshirt. It was the purple one that he managed to look good in despite it being the worst shade of the color.

“I texted you yesterday.”

“Telling me that ‘even if it isn’t an ugly sweater party you should wear that purple thing tomorrow’ doesn’t really count as conversation.” Cas gestured down at the sweatshirt and Dean laughed, internally groaning at his own dumbass choices. For a moment, Cas laughed along too. Then, he took a step forward and his face fell serious. “You promised I’d see you. The only time I saw you in person was when we ran into each other. You can just tell me if you don’t enjoy my company.”

Dean couldn’t help but feel a little called out. He knew he’d been avoiding seeing Cas, completely paralyzed by his own desire to be ridiculously domestic, and somewhere in his heart he’d hoped Cas hadn’t noticed. Yet, there it was, that sad, sad look in his eyes, proof that he had.

He wanted to cry, every nerve in his arms wanting to crush Cas into a hug that he never let go from, to apologize and explain it all but he _couldn’t_. Then Cas would be the one avoiding him. Instead, Dean just hugged him like a friend would, with a pat on the back and a time limit. Dean moved back and took his turn to look down at his feet before speaking, “I’m sorry I’ve been a bad friend. I get it, but I’m glad you came, Cas.”

And the tone of the space changed, the moment forgotten. It was almost something too tender to be held in the palm of one’s hand, but that needed to be freed and abandoned. At least for Dean. For Dean it was far too close to what he wanted to cherish. Far too real to hope for the impossible final bit. Cas’ laughing tone once again locked them into the claustrophobic space defined by the limits of the word “friendship”.

“Well, free food.” Dean didn’t pick up on the joke, still trapped in his head. His face fell a little.

Seeing Dean’s worry, Cas demeanor changed instantly. “Dean, I’m kidding.” He put a hand on his arm and gently moved it farther down Dean’s arm until he was almost, _almost_ holding his hand. “I came of my own free will. I want to hang out with you.”

_Or, and I’m just throwing out ideas, we could have sex,_ Dean thought, trying oh, so desperately to distract from the way Cas dragged him by the wrist off the terrace and into the room.

Once they were inside, Cas went to get drinks, leaving Dean alone, or as alone as one can get in a room that’s fifteen square feet. He took survey of the room and the eight people in it besides Charlie, Kevin, Cas and himself. There were the guys in the other room, Michael and Luc, who seemed to be the embodiment of hell itself, chatting by their door. Benny, one of Dean’s only other friends, was opening a bottle of what was hopefully rootbeer for the quirky kid from Dean’s English 199 class, Garth. On the couch was Charlie and her girlfriend, Dorothy, surrounded by Tessa, from a few of Charlie’s pre-med classes and whom Dean had interacted with a couple of times, Jo, one of Dean’s childhood friends who’d joined him in his adventure to the west, and Dumah, Cas’ kind-of friend and another theology major.

Thankfully, Cas freed Dean from his state of awkwardly scoping the room fairly quickly. He handed Dean his drink, taking a sip from his water. Water. The guy was drinking water. At a college party. Dean let out a breathy laugh and brought his bottle to his lips. He was a little shocked to discover that what he was drinking was decidedly not beer, or it was, but it was just _root_ beer.

“Dude.” He turned to Cas, holding the bottle inches away from his face, and his own considering their proximity.

“Yes?”

“This is not beer,” Dean said as if that changed everything.

“And you are not twenty-one.” Cas looked at Dean pointedly, barely shifting his frame to face Dean, barely giving him half a glance, yet somehow that settled it. Dean would not be drinking anything but root beer for the rest of the night.

They sat in that comfortable silence for about ten minutes, people-watching proving more interesting than they’d thought, until Cas’ head snapped up.

He began fumbling around his pockets, and mumbled some variation of, “Oh, shit” over and over again.

“What’s up, man?” First time he’d hung out with Cas in person in a month and it was being interrupted.

“I have a quiz tomorrow morning and I just now remembered, which means I will most likely forget tomorrow unless I set a reminder.” He finally pulled his phone out of his pocket, only to be met with a persistent dark screen no matter how many times he tried to click the power button. “Shit.”

Dean looked at his slightly panicked, supremely tired, friend and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Online quizzes were not something Dean fretted about frequently, or at all, but from the few intellectual conversations they’d had, Dean knew they mattered to Cas. Plus, he’d do anything for the guy. “Take mine.”

“What am I supposed to do with your phone, Dean?” Cas’ voice rose in pitch and volume and Dean couldn’t help but put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

“Send yourself a text message, and when you charge your phone in the morning it’ll be there,” Dean explained. He watched Cas let out a long breath, tension flooding out of his shoulders. He took the phone from Dean and unlocked it on the first try.

“How did you do that?”

“Your password is 1967, it’s not hard to guess given the hard-on you have for your car.” Cas spoke plainly, leaving Dean opening his mouth pointlessly, waiting for a refute that would never come. Instead of a snappy comeback, Dean’s brain chose to remind him of his contact name for Castiel in his phone. ‘The Hot Rower’.

Slowly beginning to panic, Dean tried to calmly ask for his phone. “Cas, could I, maybe, uh, have that back? Maybe?”

But it was too much mumbling, too late. “You think I’m hot?” Cas asked, and with those four words Dean’s hope of Cas ever thinking of him as sane flew out the window.

“I mean, no?” Cas’ eyebrows raised, calling Dean’s bluff. “Yes?” With each octave his voice rose, the closer his shoulders climbed to his ears. “I should go.” He pushed past Cas and made his way to the terrace, grounding himself on the cool metal railing. _Dude, you are so fucked. And_ so _not in the way you want_.

“Dean,” Cas’ voice came from somewhere behind him. “Are you going to jump off the balcony because you think I’m hot?” There was an airy, almost laughing calmness to his voice that set Dean even more on edge. Still, he didn’t turn back, but made a clever quip of his own.

“They made me sign a contract saying I wouldn’t.”

“Dean,” Cas’ voice was closer now, as was the impending let down. _This is why you don’t do the crush thing,_ his thoughts sang.

His phone was set down next to him on the railing, and Dean pocketed it before taking a breath, daring to turn around and meet Cas’ eyes. “Look, I’m really sorry about all of this—”

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“I said,” Cas leaned closer, standing on his toes to level his face with Dean’s and they were a mere two inches apart. _Kissing distance,_ Dean’s brain supplied at the entirely wrong time. “Shut up,” Cas repeated, pulling Dean’s attention to his lips and _wow_ Dean really wanted to kiss him.

And then Cas kissed him. He grabbed him by the collar of his flannel and pulled him in, almost crashing into him. He flattened his hands to Dean’s chest and wrapped them around his neck, pushing closer and fitting his mouth against Dean’s. He quickly let Cas take control and the whole experience was almost electric. The experience of tasting Cas and feeling him so close to him was mind-blowing. _Holy_ _shit_ , _this is Cas._ He’d been thinking about this for a month, and now it was finally happening.

Then it was over.

Dean opened his eyes, shocked, only to be met with Cas’ eyes, bright with elation. He looked almost as happy as Dean felt. He slowly leaned back into Dean, pressing soft kisses up his neck and whispered, “Did you ever think, Dean Winchester, that I find you unbelievably attractive as well?”

Both the question and the feel of Cas’ breath against his ear sent a shiver down his spine. Dean shook his head.

“Silly boy.” His voice was low and rough and if that wasn’t the filthiest thing Dean had ever heard. Yet, Cas seemed completely unfazed, grabbing Dean by the wrist and leading him inside once more. He scanned the doors and Dean picked up the hint.

“On the right, closest to you,” he managed before being yanked once more towards the door. Faster than what seemed feasible, he was inside of his and Kevin’s room, the sound of the party muffled, but audible.

In the quieter room, the reality of the situation settled around Dean’s shoulders. _You’re going to sleep with your friend and it will undoubtedly be awkward the next time you see him, do you still want to do this?_ The answer was a chorus of yesses from every part of Dean’s brain, so he locked eyes with Cas, trying to convey his readiness.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said. His arms rested gently on Dean’s shoulders while Dean’s wrapped around Cas’ waist. This was really happening and yet it felt so...gentle? There was something that screamed love-making instead of party sex. Despite it all, Dean was still very, very game.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Should we put on some music?” Cas asked, the gruff from earlier dissolved from his voice, genuine curiosity replacing it.

“Are we going to be that loud?” Dean questioned, half-joking, half-curious. _Were they? Did he care?_

“We very well could be.” And there again was the sexy post-sex voice and they hadn’t even had sex yet. It had Dean shuddering with anticipation.

Cas reached around behind Dean, comfortably pulling his phone from his back pocket and once again unlocking it on the first try. He put what was obviously Dean’s soft rock playlist on shuffle, and let the sound of Foreigner fill the room, drowning out the rest of the party noise. Cas shut off the phone, pushing closer to Dean until his back hit the door and then he kissed him again. One hand slid down to replace Dean’s phone in his back pocket and just stayed there, thumb hooked in one of his belt loops. The other moved up to push through Dean’s hair.

They stayed there like that, just kissing heatedly until all too soon, Cas pulled away. He was breathing heavier than he had been, sharing the air between them with Dean.  “Do you want to do this?” Cas’ eyes darted from Dean’s eyes down to his lips and back up again, concern and anticipation following each glance. Dean brought his hands from Cas’ waist up to his face, holding it gently.

“Yes.” Dean felt a rush of excitement or something else more fitting run through him, so ready for what was coming next.

“Good.” Cas pushed Dean back against the door before kissing him softly. The hand resting on Dean’s belt moved to the door handle, pushing the button there and locking the door. “Then let’s.”

_______________________

 

Dean woke up to his phone vibrating, and an arm around his waist. Trying not to disturb the owner of the arm, who his brain still wouldn’t admit was Castiel, he leaned over to read the text message.

 

**Mom:**

**I dropped your brother off, please don’t be late. I’ll see you for coffee tomorrow morning, yeah?**

**Sammy:**

**If I flew across the country for you to be late, we may never speak again.**

 

Oh yeah, he was supposed to meet with Sam today. Shit. The time on his phone said 9:30. He was meeting Sam at 10:00, so he decided it was probably time to get up.

Dean answered both texts and climbed out of bed. He showered and dressed, all to a shocking zero response from Cas’ sleeping form. He looked at his phone one more time. 9:50. He looked down at Cas and tapped him gently on his shoulder. Cas just rolled over and Dean felt panic crash over his body. _Fuck, go back. Don’t wake up._

Now that he thought about it, Dean didn’t want this moment to end. If he woke Cas up, Cas would probably realize what he did and what would happen then? He might say what Dean wanted him to say or he might tell Dean that this all was a mistake. Was it a gamble he wanted to make? He didn’t know.

Dean pulled out his desk chair and, sitting down quietly, he allowed himself a moment to think. The previous night, Cas had said that he found Dean “attractive”, not that he liked him. So maybe was he only in it for a one night thing. Dean glanced over at Cas, who was curled up quietly under his comforter, and tried in vain to calm his breathing and slow his heart rate. If Cas didn’t want anything else to do with Dean, he could be okay with that. He could, really. He shook his head, willing away the disappointment pressing at the corners of his eyes. That was what Cas wanted...except that that would undoubtedly ruin their friendship. Cas had been so concerned about Dean not wanting to be friends with him that it wouldn’t make sense that he’d only be in it for once. Dean felt a momentary calm at the realization, only to remember the other option. Not nothing, not friends, not partners, but that weird gray area where it was all of those things. And none of them. A horrible feeling wormed its way into his stomach. He didn’t want to do that. As much as he refused to admit, he liked Cas too much for some halfway bullshit.

_You can’t work this out on your own. Wake him up._ Except he couldn’t. Because an awake Cas meant a Cas who was going to shatter his whole world. He couldn’t do it.

Adding to his panic, his phone buzzed. His real obligation, in the form of his brother visiting for the weekend, presented itself again and Dean had to do something. _You can’t just leave him alone! You could leave him a...note?_

Dean pulled a sticky note off his desk, guilt weighing on his heart the whole time. There were better ideas, but those were for times of higher brain function and less time constraint. After scrawling something down, Dean folded Cas’ clothes as an extra courtesy, and with a whispered apology, let the door click softly behind him, almost bookending the whole thing.

 

_Cas,_

_Sorry to leave ya like this… don’t forget_

_your quiz._

_______________________

 

Cas woke up to his phone vibrating and cold sheets. He reached for his phone first, fumbling with the piece of paper on top before actually pulling it off and looking at it. It was a sticky note. Why was there a sticky note? And why was his phone plugged in? He distinctly remembered it being in the pocket of his jeans which he distinctly remembered being discarded by the door. Except now, both the jeans and the phone were resting on the chest of drawers next to Dean’s bed. Wait, he was in Dean’s bed. So where was Dean? And why was there a sticky note on his phone? He looked at the little slip of yellow paper, reading the words in Dean’s scrawled handwriting, most specifically the word “leave”. Dean left. Like some kind of fucked-up, reverse one night stand. Now Cas was alone in a dorm that wasn’t his, and he was irritated, bordering on angry. His phone buzzed in his hand again, re-alerting him of the message he’d gotten. The little one-word message from his friend had his head clouded with emotions ranging from fuming to disappointed.

 

**Charlie Bradbury: so??**

 

**Castiel: I’m going to kill him.**

 

**Charlie Bradbury: ….and why is that?**

 

**Castiel: He left.**

 

**Charlie Bradbury: i don’t get it, what do u mean??**

 

He didn’t want to elaborate. Somehow having to explain to Charlie that he’d been stood up post-sex was worse than actually being stood up. Okay, well, not really, but it did drive the stupid nail a little further into the coffin and that wasn’t exactly pleasant.

 

**Castiel: He left.**

 

Maybe she’d get it, and then maybe she would leave him alone to wallow in his pain.

 

**Charlie Bradbury: wait. he left left? like left u alone in his dorm? slighting both u and kevin?**

 

**Castiel: This is your fault.**

 

He probably shouldn’t have accused her outright like that, but the whole thing _had_ been her fault. Charlie was the one who had told him to “Go for it!” because “What was the worst that could happen?”. So much for chasing his dreams.

_Apparently,_ Cas thought, bitterly, _when you catch them, they only abandon you in the wild world of loneliness that is a twin bed in a college dorm._ His phone buzzed, reminding him of the conversation he was supposed to be having, instead of this goddamn pity party.

 

**Charlie Bradbury: fair. but him leaving is his. he did that on his own. fuck him.**

 

**Castiel: Unfortunately, I’ve already done that.**

 

The most empty laugh left his body at his own dumb joke.

 

**Castiel: I think the only option left may be to block his number.**

 

**Charlie Bradbury: that’s probably the best plan**

 

Cas sighed. He didn’t want her to be right, but she was. He stared down at the little text in front of him and let his thumb move to the power button. Every muscle in his body seemed to fail then and he collapsed back onto the bed. The pillow smelled like Dean and every part of his brain was warring between hating it and wanting to stay in that stupid bed forever. He couldn’t decide. It should’ve been easy and he couldn’t. Then, in the midst of it all, one thought worked its way into his mind. _What if it’s your fault?_ If his phone fell out of his loose grasp, he didn’t notice. Instead, his brain focused on the thought. The most miserable thing he’d ever thought. _Maybe it is._ No matter how pretty, kind, athletic or adorable Dean Winchester was, he still left, and that wasn’t okay. Castiel deserved better and he knew it, he’d just hoped that Dean was the ‘better’ he’d been waiting oh so patiently for.

Forcing his legs to move, Cas climbed out of Dean’s bed and back into his jeans and sweatshirt, walking out of the small room with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He was going to take a shower, take this quiz, go for a run, then go to work, and if anger fueled his actions the whole day, so be it. First, he needed coffee.

_________________

 

If Dean was being really honest, he had no idea why he was avoiding Castiel, or at least, he didn’t have a _definitive_ idea why he was avoiding Castiel. There were several options to choose from, really, the primary one being that Dean had abandoned him in his dorm room and Castiel was a high level rower who could no doubt separate each of Dean’s limbs from his torso with ease, and therefore Dean was scared. The second, far more suppressed, reason was that Dean was afraid of his feelings. He really, really liked Cas and he was really, really scared that Castiel didn’t. Sure, Dean was the fuck ‘em and forget ‘em type, but right now he did _not_ want to be. But what if Cas normally wasn’t and now he wanted to be? And even if Cas did like him, would Dean be a good boyfriend? Did he even want to think about the word “boyfriend”? No, he didn’t. All he wanted to think about was showing his brother the Emerald City, and that was all he was thinking about when he pulled up to the Starbucks that was decidedly _not_ on Stevens and Jefferson.

 

Sam was in there waiting with his chai tea and waved Dean over before he could walk up to the line.

“Isn’t that the guy you had me computer stalk for you?” He pointed at a dark haired guy in a purple pullover hoodie which no doubt had a large gold “W” printed on the front. “Yeah! It totally is!”

Dean stared in shock. That was Cas. A very present Cas, in the same clothes he’d worn yesterday, staring down at his phone while he waited for his coffee. Dean felt his stomach roil with anxiety. He’d hoped for a very different scenario. _You’d hoped he would sleep ‘till four and that when you got back you’d replace yourself in his arms and pretend to wake up like nothing was wrong. No such luck._

Dean ducked his head down, poorly shielding his hand with his face.

“Dude,” Sam tapped the table in front of them to pull his attention away from the dandelions out the window, “go talk to him.”

Dean thought on that for a minute. What if he did? What if he got up, walked over there, said “hi” and explained himself. Problem...solved? Not really. No matter what he did, Cas would be upset and Dean wasn’t sure if he was ready for that let down. _Make a choice, man._ That was when Cas looked up. _You are a monster of a human being, Dean Winchester._

It looked like the clothes that had fit him so well yesterday had grown two sizes. Like he’d walked through wind and sleet for six ounces of coffee. Like he’d gone through hell and back. His hard set eyes matched the tired hand running through his hair and all Dean could think was that he just looked exhausted. Not the kind like he had been rowing for hours, but the kind like he had just cried for a comparable amount of time. Below all of that simmered a dangerous anger that Dean would eventually be on the receiving end of.

Dean could feel his heart stutter. Not with fear, no, not anymore, but with pure anguish. Anguish that came from knowing he could have done better. Yet, here they were. _You did that._

And now Dean was awkwardly pulling his brother out of the Starbucks by the wrist.

“Dean, why are we evacuating the Starbucks like our asses are on fire?”

“Because he,” Dean pointed, “cannot know I am here. Now get in the car.” It was better to leave as soon as possible so Cas didn’t see him and _shatter_ him.

“All right, all right.”

Sam looked like he was about to burst with a thousand questions when he finally buckled his seatbelt, so Dean just cut to the chase.

“What?”

“You’ve got a huge crush on that guy is what!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dean glared at the lane in front of him instead of the fourteen year old in his passenger seat.

“The fuck has been shut up,” Sam said, still confused as to why his his brother was stumbling through his words over some guy in an unhealthy amount of purple. Five minutes later he asked, “Can I talk again?”

Dean shot a glance to his right, ready to throttle Sam if the need arose. “Depends on what you’re gonna say.”

“Where are we going? I mean I figured the general direction was ‘away from the hot Starbucks guy’ but like, anywhere specific?”

“Coffee.” Sam didn’t ask him to elaborate.

Neither Winchester spoke until Dean pulled into a little space next to a cafe and even then, “We’re here,” were the only words out of Dean’s mouth. He walked up to the counter and ordered his coffee with as few words as he could manage while still being polite. At the same time inside his head, well, monologue wouldn’t even begin to describe it.

_This is all Charlie’s fault, she’s the one that guessed, and she’s the one that meddled, and if I had just gone and avoided Cas and sulked longingly from the corner all of this would be fine._

Really though, he couldn’t blame Charlie, she’d been nothing but encouraging, and Dean had been the one to bring feelings into the whole thing. It was his fault, that was all that mattered. No matter how much he hated it, he was the cause of all of it and if he ever got the nerve to, he’d have to be the one to fix it.

The barista called his name and he brought his coffee over to the high table his brother had picked out.

“So, little brother, how is high school treating you?” A nice change of subject.

Sam went on about freshman biology and the girl that sat next to him in English and Dean listened, taking in every piece of information as welcome distraction, and as a little bit of blackmail on his brother. Seriously, he had no right to be talking about Dean’s lame crush when he had one of his own. Yeah, that information would be put to use by the end of the weekend, but he had to finish his coffee first. When he refocused, his brother was still explaining his class’ reading of Oedipus the King.

“He just rips his eyes out! Can you believe it?!” Sam took an angry sip from his water. He was drinking water. At a coffee shop. _Kinda like water at a college party, no?_ He needed to stop.

“Yes, Sam I can. In fact, I read the exact same play four years ago,” Dean said.

“Whatever.”

Dean stood, tossing his coffee cup. “Let’s go, sounds like you need to walk and talk out your Oedipus Rex complex.”

“I don’t have an Oedipus complex, that would be gross,” Sam said, following Dean out of the coffee shop.

Dean opened the passenger door for his brother and climbed into the front seat himself. “I’m not saying you do, that _would_ be gross,” Dean pointed out, shuddering at the thought, “but you do have some strong feelings about the guy.”

Sam looked up at his brother, that same embarrassing giddy smile on his face as before. “Speaking of feelings… you know, for guys, what was the deal wi-” He was cut off by Dean slamming on the brakes.

“Shut the fuck up, Sam. Do you want to die in this city? Cause I can make that happen.”

“Mom would kill you.” At Dean’s glare, Sam just laughed and sat there thinking for a few minutes. As they drove southwest toward the busier parts of town, he pulled out his phone and hid the screen from Dean which, needless to say, was a bad thing, Dean just didn’t know how bad, until Sam turned off his phone and looked intently at him.

“I’ll stop bugging you about it if we get to do whatever I want today.”

Dean agreed quickly, he’d seen the worst Seattle had to offer and it was mostly art museums, so if it meant they didn’t have to talk about Cas, he was cool with whatever.

___________________

 

It took 10 minutes and a trip to the waterfront for Dean to regret his choice.

“Sam there is no way I am doing this.”

Sam ignored him and simply asked, “So what’s the guys name?”

Dean gritted his teeth. This was the deal he made. “Shut up.”

“Then after you.” Sam gestured toward the line they were about to enter.

“I am not riding the goddamn ferris wheel.” He looked up the the thing, his heart splashing into his stomach. It was about 500 feet in the air and it hung precariously over the water, just taunting Dean.

“How long have you liked him?”

Dean begrudgingly took a step towards the line. “I hate this.”

“It’s not like it’s an airplane, calm down.”

“It’s in the air and it moves, it’s damn close, Sammy!” Dean turned around and began walking away from the water only to be stopped when his brother shouted from behind him.

“Why can’t you be near him? Did you make a fool of yourself?”

Dean got back in line, angrily staring at the contraption the whole time they inched closer to it. It was a short wait, something Dean couldn’t tell if he was grateful for or if he hated, but either way they were being sat in a metal gondola, and a door was being shut behind them. And then it was moving.

Dean managed to keep it together until they reached the top and Dean looked down. “Castiel, a month and a half, and it’s because we had sex, now get me off this thing!”

Sam and Dean stared at each other in complete stunned silence before Sam muttered out, “Gross.”

Dean looked around the room container thing before staring down at his feet, panic setting in for two reasons now instead of one. “I can’t believe I told you that.”

“I can’t believe you had sex.”

They sat in awkward silence, neither daring to speak until the cart neared the ground again and Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

“Wait. Why isn’t it stopping?” Dean questioned, slightly frantic, as they rose steadily into the air again.

“I think it goes around a couple of times…”

“Oh my god…”

“Want to share a little bit more about Castiel?” Sam tried, the question coming out careful, like Dean might jump out of the ferris wheel if he crossed a line. Dean only turned a glare towards him. The third time the ferris wheel started its ascent, Dean spoke.

“I really like him, but I don’t think he likes me as much and I also probably, totally messed things up, so I don’t want to get into it, let’s just...go get lunch when this is over and forget about it. Please?”

Sam’s expression had sobered. “Sure, Dean.”

“Thanks.” The ride slowed to a stop and they climbed out, Dean ready to hug the dirty docks underneath his feet.

“Can we go to the museum?”

_Really? Now? After I’ve undergone the_ torture _that was that thing?_ Now _you wanna go the museum?_ “Do we have to? Museums suck.”

“Dean, you work at a museum.”

“Fair, but all _other_ museums suck.”

“How about the Museum of Pop Culture? I heard that was cool.” Unfortunately. Sam was right. Dean enjoyed the hell out of that museum and he was not opposed to going again, but he didn’t have to _appear_ happy about it.

“Fine. We can go to the museum.”

_________________

 

Running was not one of Castiel’s favorite activities. No matter how much he loved the cardio of rowing, he still hated running. But, it did help him drive his anger out of his body and into the cement. Right now especially, he had a lot of anger. Castiel was probably going to get shin splints from how hard he was running his feet on the ground, but he needed to do it. He needed to accomplish something considering he felt like the roller coaster of wins and losses was running all too smoothly this morning.

He’d gotten his hopes up only to have them torn down by Dean Winchester not liking him back. He felt childlike and it made him sick to his stomach. Every footfall rocked the thoughts through his brain and slowly, Cas got a little angrier.

_Why am I not good enough?_

He shook it out of his head and kept running.

_Maybe he’s the one who’s not good enough._

It was like he was a fucking fourth grader again. He felt his feet falter, too distracted to work right.

_Except he was good enough._

The shock of it hit him square in the chest, his breathing just _that_ much more shallow.

_You’re alone. He left you alone._

Full stop. He nearly collapsed on the grass next to him. Heavy breaths pushed out of his chest. Slouching weak like this was bad form and he couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he forced himself to take in his surroundings after the somewhat mindless run. He was at the Ship Canal, right next to the water. They’d come through here the day he had met Dean. That day was also the day Samandriel had told Ketch to, “shut his stroke seat mouth because the important people were talking” when he had interrupted Cas’ question about the game plan for the race. He’d almost forgotten, too focused on school and other things he refused to admit were Dean.

He pulled out his phone, checking the time and his mile. He’d almost beat his mile by running on emotional distress. _Well, there’s one benefit._

____________________

 

Around 7:15, after they’d finished their full and complete museum tour of Seattle and dinner, Sam and Dean were walking pretty aimlessly through the market. They’d stopped next to a trio of Jazz musicians by the fish stand and where the guys behind the counter were throwing fish back and forth, Dean was trying in vain to stop Sam from poking the fish in the eyes. That was when his phone pinged.

 

**Kevin (Roommate): Are you going to kick me out of the room to have sex again?**

 

Dean could almost _feel_ how bitter he was as a sliver of guilt worked its way into his system. _Nice going asshole. First you kick your roommate out, then you abandon they guy you kicked your roommate out for._

 

**Dean: Nope, it’s all yours.**

 

**Kevin (Roommate): Oh?**

 

Dean sighed. _Maybe. Maybe if I hadn’t fucked it up, I could be in Cas’ dorm watching movies on a laptop snug_ —

Okay, he needed to stop.

 

**Dean: Not what you think.**

 

**Kevin (Roommate): Oh.**

 

**Dean: Staying with my brother.**

 

**Kevin (Roommate): Cool.**

 

Yeah, cool. Now he just had to see if the solution he found would actually solve the problem or he would be without a place to stay tonight.

He turned to Sam, who was arguing with one of the fish vendors for some reason. “Sammy!”

Sam pulled his attention away from the jumping fish just long enough to answer his brother. “Yeah?”

“Where are you staying?”

“The...what’s it called? The Westin, right, that one.” And then he was back to it.

Dean sighed once again, grabbing Sam and pulling him away from the fish corpses.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

Sam turned to Dean, attention solely on him, fish suddenly a thing of the past. “Sure, Dean.” He moved to ask exactly what Dean knew was going to ask, but he cut him off.

“Don’t ask, maybe I’ll tell you later, but please, let’s just go.” He’d been pulled back into his guilt and regret, and all he wanted to do was pass out and wake up yesterday with a chance to do it again. For now, he could settle for just sleeping forever.

Sam took the opportunity he found in Dean’s somber mood to grab his hand and pull him through the crowds and out into the street.

They walked for three blocks, until Sam pulled him into a Target, and took him almost immediately past the counters and into the aisles.

Dean wasn’t protesting in the slightest, too numb to disagree, but one thought pushed its way through the mess his head was becoming. “I live here. How do you know this place better than me?”

Sam scoured the aisles that were full of snack foods. He answered Dean’s question distractedly, “I looked it up. Had to know where my nearest food that wasn’t take out was in case you forgot to feed me.” He looked at Dean then added, “Or if someone’s having a mental breakdown.”

And suddenly, the energy to argue reappeared! “I am not having a men—”

“Plus,” Sam added, not caring about Dean’s protest concerning his mental stability, “you probably spend all of your time in campus, being a college student and all.” He pulled three packages of microwave popcorn off the shelves, took two bags of M&M’s from their respective baskets and walked back to the counter, with a dramatic grab for coke on the way there.

Dean poked at all the plastic wrappers as they passed him in line. “Am I PMSing? Is this what’s happening?”

Sam made intense eye contact with a Dean, “I didn’t think so, but if there’s something else you need to tell me, I’m here.” He laid a uselessly comforting hand on Dean’s arm, maintaining that strange eye contact.

“No, Sam, it’s just that this looks like a fifth grade sleepover.” He poked the chocolate again.

“Or post breakup food,” Sam offered.

If you listened closely you could hear the sound of it all clicking in Dean’s brain. “Stop pitying me!”

“I could put it all back…”

Dean looked at the belt, turned to look at his fourteen year old brother, who just really wanted to help,, and pulled out his debit card. “Let’s have a sleepover Sam.”

____________________

 

Okay, so the plan was _not_ ‘reveal your feelings and emotions about your friend to your brother while both watching and judging the movie _The Proposal’,_ but that was what happened.

The movie had almost been over, he had been so close to being off the hook with Sam. Sure, they’d had fun, lots of fun, like, a shocking amount of fun considering his inner turmoil, but he had still had the nagging feeling like he just _knew_ Sam was going to ask about the Cas thing. He’d been hoping that when the movie ended they could sleep off all the drama and questions but instead, Dean had opened his goddamn mouth.

Margaret and Andrew had just kissed, expressing all their most hidden desires on screen before them, and before he could stop himself, Dean mumbled through a handful of popcorn, “God I wish that were me.”

Sam was instantly confused. “You wish you were kissing Sandra Bullock?”

“Okay one,” Dean started, turning towards Sam, slightly affronted, “I wish I was kissing Ryan Reynolds. And two, no. I wish I had that or whatever.” He gestured at the TV and the two actors making heart eyes at each other. It was gross and he was jealous. Sam picked up on it and latched on like a tick, scooting towards Dean ever so slightly. The questions behind his wide eyes all but made them pop out of his head. _Talk to him, dumbass. You’ve got no one else to talk to, and maybe talking it out would clear your head._

“Did you want to ask something, Sam?” His brother was going to have to pry the emotions from his cold, dead skull. Sam scooted ever closer, staring at Dean like he was a baby bird he wanted to hold. _Well it’s better than throwing me out of the goddamn nest,_ Dean thought, still trying to convince the most stubborn parts of his mind that this was a good idea.

“Who do you wish you had that with?”

_Cas._ “Anyone.” Again, cold, dead skull.

“Why?” Sam asked the question slowly, softly, almost like if he moved any faster, the baby bird would hurl itself out of the nest on its own.

Dean fell back onto the bed, counting the numerous stains on the ceiling before answering. “I don’t wanna be lonely.”

“Don’t you have friends?”

Yeah, he did, but, “Charlie’s Cas’ friend before mine, Kevin is just my roommate, and Benny isn’t that kinda friend.” He heard Sam sigh next to him. “Plus,” he added, unthinkingly, “it’s a different kind of lonely.” _Hello emotional transparency, I’m Dean Winchester._

Sam had waited a bit then, shuffling around with the blankets before properly turning to look at his brother. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Aren’t these all personal questions?”

“Fine then, can I ask you a long, complex personal question?”

“Sure, Sammy.”

“If you’re so lonely, why did you never have a girlfriend in high school? Why’d you have sex with so many girls and never ask for something more? Why now, with this guy?”

It was long and complex, yet the answer wasn’t, not at all. “I don’t know.” It was definitive. Not curious, not self questioning, but certain. He didn’t fucking know. All he knew was that he didn’t like those girls like that and there was something about Castiel Novak that made Dean want to be both cared for and also held up against a wall and kissed almost like their lives depended on it. He just didn’t know what it was.

“Can I ask another personal question?”

Dean waved a hand as his only permission, too busy reflecting in his own muddled brain to speak.

“Is it different with this guy?”

Dean nodded. _So different._ He spoke the words he could never tell anyone only, he spoke them in his head. _He’s the first person I regret having sex with because if I’d been transparent, I wouldn’t have fucked it all up._ He took a shaky breath. _I fucked it up…_

_“_ Why are you so scared of the guy you’re in love with?”

There was the word. He’d been waiting, not wanting to say it at all, not daring to cross that bridge no matter how many times the paths in his mind got him to it. And now Sam had said it better than he ever could.

“That was an unauthorized personal question.” He was deflecting. Granted, he was deflecting a question he didn’t technically have to answer, but he still felt guilt tugging at his mind.

“Dean,” Sam whispered. It was a quiet calling of bullshit and they both knew it.

There was a moment of quiet breathing before Dean spoke.

“Because Charlie kept saying the word ‘friends’. She knows how I feel, and she most certainly knows how he feels, so why not say something if the feelings clicked, you know?” He swallowed around the lump in his throat, continuing cautiously, “So when she kept saying, ‘Cas wants to see his friends’ or ‘you’re his friend’, never even making a little joke about it, it just makes me think that there was no chance.”

There. All on the table, perfectly aligned, no doubting anything now. Dean felt barren, empty, like telling Sam all this had pulled everything out of him. But he kept talking, “Even after he slept with me I still felt it, and I didn’t want to do ‘friends with benefits’. So I left, didn’t even leave the option.” Yet, there was still something stuck. Something in the depths of his heart that he’d have to pull hard to get out. Something really big. “You can’t go halfway when you love someone, right?” Something _that_ big.

“Why don’t you just talk to _him_?”

“Because what if he says what I’m expecting?” Dean said, not wanting to look his brother in the eyes.

“What if he doesn’t?”

 

That last little question was why, at midnight, Dean found himself staring at the little square of light in his hands, a message typed out, and nerves boiling in his stomach. His finger hovered over the little blue arrow that would send it, and his brain bounced back and forth on whether or not he should. Sam’s words found themselves being bounced around with the two options and, eventually, he settled. _Fuck it._

 

**Dean: I’d like to apologize and maybe talk. Can that be a thing?**

 

_Wow what a garbage text,_ he thought. Emotions never were his strong suit. _Too late now._ Dean set the phone down almost instantly, refusing to be _that_ guy who waited by the phone for his lover to call or whatever the hell.

His phone buzzed.

 

**[Message not delivered]**

 

He heart fell into his stomach and his whole body felt heavy. It may as well have said it plain. Number blocked. Exactly what he was expecting. Not exactly what he was hoping.

________________

 

By the looks of the large pile in the plastic shelving unit, Cas could tell his day was going to be filled with paperwork. At the very least it was going to be a mind numbing distraction from his simmering melting pot of emotions concerning Dean Winchester.

The paperwork on his desk was divided into three sections, the biggest of which being the volunteer applications he had to sort through. He never threw them away, never really told anyone that they weren’t going to get a position at the organization, just filed them away and repeated the ever used phrase, “not at this time” in email after email.

Sorting was truly a distraction and it took him almost an two hours to pair each qualified volunteer with an appropriate group. Next were the organization applications, which took a lot more effort.

_Why did I take this job?_ He thought briefly, but his moment of weakness was flooded with answers almost the instant he had it. _Because you like helping people. Because they gave it to you despite your age and so you are grateful. Because they pay you._ Three valid reasons but still not reason enough to not be tired. As Castiel had found out in the recent weeks, emotions could be quite draining. He laid his head on the packets in front of him, closing his eyes for a moment of peace.

When he thought about it, the title of “Junior Volunteer Coordinator” was absolutely meaningless, especially because he’d recently found out that the “Senior Volunteer Coordinator” was a guy named Mr. Shurley who insisted on being called “Chuck” and lazed around in his office all day. _So much for guidance from my superiors_.

The bell on the door, that was there probably so Chuck could put out whatever he was smoking before anyone came to see it, dinged, forcing Cas to lift his head from his desk.

“You’re gonna kill the trees with all that paper.” Charlie forwent pleasantries most of the time and today was no exception.

“Ninety percent of these damn applications are in my email box, so I’m really not killing as many as I could.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow at the profanity.

“I’m so tired,” Cas offered as an explanation. That only got him another eyebrow. “I didn’t sleep.”

“Why?”

“Thinking about things.”

“Things?” Charlie pulled a chair from one of the empty desks around them to sit on. “Like, boy problem things? Or culture of the medieval Islamic world things? Which, need I remind you, you have a test on on Friday.”

“I know. The former.”

“Hate that word,” Charlie muttered before refocusing on Castiel. “Boy problems, like Dean Winchester?” She crossed her legs as if she was preparing for a long discussion instead of an emotion-fueled rant.

“Exactly like that.” He let out a long groan and resettled on his paper pillow.

“Why do you care about that?” Her question was met with a violent glare, and if he was one of the angels he’d  studied so much about because of his damn Comparative Christianity class, he would have smited her. Backtracking, she said, “Okay yeah, I get why you care about it, but you’ve gotten your closure, what else is there to fuss about?”

“Blocking his cellphone number is not closure. Finding out why on Earth Dean Winchester decided he needed to be far away from me so quickly that he left me in his dorm room would be closure. Then I could punch him in the nose.”

Charlie sighed, fiddling with the pens on the desk as she did so. “That I cannot tell you. I thought he liked you.”

Cas turned an interested eye on his friend.

“Yeah, I thought he was in love with you or something, the way he waited at the coffee shop every day.” She shrugged, returning to her pens and drumming out a paradiddle on his desk.

_That makes it worse._ “I guess he changed his mind,” Cas said into his folded arms, disinterest poorly feigned on his tongue.

“Look,” Charlie looked around the room taking in the sheer inactivity of the place and turned back to him, “You’ve probably got a thousand vacation days you haven’t used because you have no life -”

“I have nine left because I used one for the Boston regatta.”

“Your over-demanding sport is not a life, and you’ve still proved my point. C’mon, let’s bail.”

“Okay,” Cas conceded. If he was being honest, he really had nothing better to do and hanging out with Charlie was decidedly better than sorting applications. “Let’s go.”

The second he said it the bell dinged again, and in walked Cas’ coworkers, Hannah and Anna.

“Hello, Castiel,” they both said, verging on curt. Hannah sat down at her desk and Anna simply stood behind hers, glancing pointedly at the chair Charlie was occupying.

When the look finally caught her attention, she nearly sprang up. “Oh!” She swung the chair back over to Anna’s desk and apologized. “So sorry! We were just leaving!”

That caught the attention of both women. “Where are you off to, Castiel?”

Before Cas could respond, Charlie did, quite loudly, and quite excitedly with, “We’re going to talk about...things!”

Both of Cas’ colleagues continued to stare, unconvinced. “What kind of things, Castiel?” Anna asked.

“Important things,” Cas said, all previous eloquence thrown out the window,

And then, as if she had somehow connected her own mind to Cas’, Hannah asked, “Dean Winchester?”

Castiel could only stand still in shock. Charlie decided then that her cellphone was of the utmost importance, leaving Cas severely alone.

“You’re not very good at hiding your computer screen,” Hannah explained. “That boy is a bad influence on you.” The way she said “boy” made Cas’ skin crawl.

Charlie scoffed beside him and he could only imagine her thoughts were similar to his. _They sound like my parents, and why are they looking at my computer?_

“He won’t be good relationship material,” Hannah continued.

Cas instantly felt like defending Dean. “And how would you know?”

At this Anna blushed and took her turn to speak, “Experience. He doesn’t care, Cas.”

The nickname sounded foreign on her tongue, and the knowledge that she’d fooled around with Dean didn’t sit well in Castiel’s stomach, but her statement rang all too true. _He_ doesn’t _care_

At his deep, pitiful, sigh Charlie looked up from her phone. “Well, on that happy note, we’re going to get ice cream!” She grabbed his hand and for lack of a better term, they hauled ass out of the building.

With the door firmly shut behind them, Charlie turned to him. “I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, Charlie. Just buy me ice cream,” Cas joked. He couldn’t tell if the situation needed to be alleviated, his personal thoughts on the matter undecided, but he did it all the same.

“Sounds great,” Charlie said with nothing short of a sigh of relief.

They walked the few blocks to whatever little parlor Charlie pulled up on her phone and stood in the long line. Charlie, of course, took this waiting period to throw a few questions his way.

“Are they always like that?”

Cas examined the flavors on the wall. “Judgemental? Yes.”

“Why?”

“They believe that I am not ‘following the appropriate plan for success’. They believe that my major is ‘useless’ and that my preferred career choice ‘will not sustain me’.”

“Oh. That’s gotta suck.”

“Yes,” Cas conceded. He didn’t hate them by any stretch, but working with them was difficult. _Unfortunately there seems to be a series of difficult people in my life_ , Cas thought to himself. “What size are you getting?”

“The smallest one.”

“Okay. That’s what I’ll get then.”

She turned, confused. “You’re not exploiting me for all I’m worth? Do you not know how this works? When was the last time someone bought you something?”

“I believe it was a five dollar cup of black coffee from one Dean Winchester.”

Charlie put a lame hand on his shoulder. “Sorry.”

Cas just nodded. They ordered their ice cream, Cas sizing up to a double scoop to both Charlie’s amusement and chagrin, and when they sat down, Charlie’s questions restarted.

“What do you want to do about this Dean Winchester thing?”

Cas poked at his ice cream and answered slowly, “I’d like to have sex with him. But in my dorm. So I can leave him there.” Bitter would probably have been the most apt description of Castiel at that moment.

Charlie laughed, but only a little. “Cute, Cas, but seriously? You can’t take this to your grave, man.”

Cas just raised an eyebrow in challenge. He very well could and they both knew it, but the question was, did he want to? Did he want to _never_ speak to Dean Winchester again? Not really. Cas let his shoulders and his angry façade fall. He wasn’t angry, he was sad. He was sad that Dean hadn’t decided him worthy of his time or even a formal goodbye. It fucking sucked.

“What I want to do is move on.” That was the truth. He didn’t want to waste the next six months of his life mourning something that only existed for 12 hours, he had better things to do. There was one problem with that plan though. “I just don’t know how to do that.”

There was an awkward pause while Charlie searched for something to change the topic to. She settled on her job and some of the characters there, but Cas wasn’t listening all too closely, and he let his mind wander.

 

_They’d been lying there in silence for a little bit, maybe three minutes, a little too overwhelmed by the_ everything _about what had just happened to function, when Dean started to fall asleep. Cas noticed pretty quickly when the hand on his chest went limp and Dean’s breathing became even. For a minute, Cas didn’t know what on Earth to do and eventually, he just moved his arm out from underneath Dean, enough to stir him awake._

_“Oh,” Dean blinked wearily, “did I fall asleep?”_

_Cas nodded, smiling down at him._

_“Sorry,” Dean whispered, nearly falling back asleep._

_“Don’t worry about it.”_

_Dean mumbled some affirmation before pressing back into Cas’ chest. Cas put his arm back around Dean, and they laid there, or Cas laid, Dean slept, but they both were there, calm as all could be, the muffled noise of the still-going party almost an afterthought. Cas took that moment to look around Dean’s dorm. He took in the things taped to the walls and how the various western and horror movie posters were nothing short of a juxtaposition to Kevin’s minimalist photos. Next, his eyes were drawn to the all too stereotypical digital alarm clock on the nightstand and the glaring red numbers on it that read ‘11:45’. That was a nice reminder of his responsibilities, and that reminder served simply to inform Castiel of how this whole thing was so severely impulsive and impermanent and how he really should be leaving._

_So, with a heavy sigh, Cas once again separated himself from Dean’s form and began to climb out of the bed._

_Then there was a voice behind him and a hand on his shoulder. “Where are you going?”_

_“I have to get up early,” Cas said. “Plus, it isn’t polite to simply stay without asking.” Though, if he was being honest with himself, this was Cas’ sly way of asking._

_“No, it isn’t. Or- wait…” Dean raised his other hand to rub at his eyes and finally, he focused on Cas. “It isn’t impolite. Generally, if someone doesn’t immediately kick you out after sex, that means you can stay.”_

_Cas looked at Dean, and Dean looked right back. There was something in the air between them that gave Cas the guts to ask, “Does that mean you’d like me to stay?”_

_Dean laughed. “Yes, Cas, I want you to stay.” And he grabbed his hand and for the third time that night, settled himself against Cas’ chest, except this time, they both fell asleep together._

When he returned from his daydream, Cas realized that reliving that moment had been the exact opposite of “moving on”. Maybe it was going to take a lot more time than he’d thought.

______________________

 

Dean woke up to a knock on Sam’s hotel room door.

“Fuck, that’s mom,” Sam said, literally rolling off his bed. Dean could vaguely recall Sam mentioning that Mary had the room next to his. Sam answered the door and their mother walked in, eyebrows raised.

“Good morning.”

All Dean could mutter was a feeble, “Hi, mom,” and a little tiny wave.

“I came to wake you up because we’re leaving today and I haven’t gotten coffee with my son yet.” She folded her arms. “But apparently, someone needs to go back to his dorm to get a change of clothes.”

Sam laughed beside him and Dean just glanced at the clock next to him. He had to be at work in three hours. It was plenty of time, but Dean just didn’t have the energy to stand. _The Causes and Effects of Emotional Catharsis: another stunning Cosmo article by Dean Winchester._ He dropped his head into his pillow. “I need to get my uniform.”

“Then we’re getting coffee,” Mary said, no question to it. She walked back to her room. It was silent for a bit and when Sam spoke, Dean really wanted to strangle him.

“You gonna tell her about Cas?”

“No.” He could hear Sam laughing at him but he chose to ignore it in favor of walking over and hugging his brother over the laughter.

“You’re smothering me,” Sam mumbled to where he was pushed against Dean’s arms.

“Don’t bring up Cas again, bitch,” he said, shoving him lightly.

“Only if you tell mom, jerk.”

Dean walked over to the desk chair and grabbed his hoodie and his jeans. “I’m not telling mom.”

“Then I’ll tell mom,” Sam said.

Dean almost froze. “Don’t you dare tell her,” he said, almost tripping over his half-on pants. His brother put his hands up and Dean relented.

“You should tell her though,” Sam pointed out, all singsong and condescension.

Dean grumbled a “Yeah, whatever” and walked out the door to his car.

___________________

 

Coffee with his mother was uneventful, unlike coffee with Sam the previous day. What Dean was not prepared for was the ride back to the hotel.

“So,” Mary began. She looked over at Dean and he expected her to ask about baseball or how long it was going to be until she saw her son again but instead, she asked, “Who’s Cas?”

Dean almost stopped the car there, instead opting to ask, “You knew?”

“You boys aren’t exactly the quietest of talkers.”

Dean looked from her to the road several times. “Then why ask me now?”

“You can’t jump out of a car you’re driving.” There was a pause. “So, who is he?”

“A guy.”

Mary looked at him, maternal devotion clear on her face. “A guy you… like?” she asked, slowly. Dean didn’t answer. She could infer, she was his mother after all. Mary looked at him expectantly for a moment before catching on. She nodded, refocusing on the road ahead of them. “What are you going to do? Tell him?”

“Hell no!”

“Language, Dean, I am still your mother.”

“Sorry, it’s just, I can’t tell him.”

His mom sighed and reached a comforting hand over to his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dean.” Dean couldn’t tell if she was trying some weird reverse-psychology or if she’d given up or something else. They pulled up to the street in front of the hotel and Mary climbed out of the car. “You call me,” she said, leaning on the window, “if it all works out.”

Dean gave her a simple nod. _Like hell it will._ He just heaved a sigh and drove to work. He needed a distraction.

___________________

 

When he finally settled at work, Dean’s ‘distraction’ ended up being just thinking about the events of the weekend. Unfortunately, it was interrupted by an all too personal question, “Is it just Monday or are you back to crushing now?”

Dean popped his head up from his phone and glared at Jo.

“Shut the fuck up.”

She raised her hands innocently. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just that you’ve been staring at that contact page on your phone for about, uhm, five minutes now? What’s the deal? Who’s ‘Castiel’?”

“A guy.”

Jo sighed, “Yeah I get that, dipshit, but who is he, you know, to you?”

“A friend, if that,” he replied, curt as all hell.

Jo’s eyebrows raised in interest. “Drama?” she asked.

“A lot.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it?”

“Not at all.”

Her hands came up in surrender, and she backed into her station, giving a final warning before returning to her computer, “Just don’t take that attitude to the tour you’ve got in twenty minutes, sourpuss.”

“I’ll try.” And he did, it was just a little difficult to be nice to struggling kids in flight simulators when he had other things on his mind. _You’ve gotta move on. Don’t focus on a guy who doesn’t want you_. And yeah, Dean knew that was the logical left-brain way of thinking about it, but damn it if the rest of him didn’t want to watch hallmark movies over a half gallon of mint ice cream. He’d just have to do that when he got home. Right now, he had to work.

Thankfully, the tour ended relatively quickly and he was back at his position in front of the exhibit waiting to answer questions for any lost tourists or curious dads.

“Excuse me,” someone said behind him as he watched three Girl Scouts fawn over the WASP exhibit.

“Hi, how can I—Hey, Charlie.” The redhead looked up at him and he looked down at her in a weird standoff where neither of them wanted to speak first. “What’s up?”

“That airplane,” she said, pointing.

Dean looked at the aircraft suspended from the ceiling. “The Starfighter or the PT-19?”

“The Blue Angel.”

Dean nodded, internally retching at the thought of being on one of those. _Even the professionals pass out som_ — _Focus up._ “What do you need, Charlie?”

“To talk.”

“I’m working.” Dean gestured to the planes.

Charlie breathed an angry sigh and grabbed him by the shoulders. They stopped by the 707.

“Then as far as your boss is concerned I want to know a shit ton about the Wright Brothers.”

“Well I can tell you a lot, really they were fascinating people, what do you want to know?” Dean rambled, trying to avoid the confrontation that was about to happen.

Charlie crossed her arms. “I want to know why you left Cas in your dorm room.”

“I had to go meet my brother.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was not the full truth.

“Then wake him up. Easy solution,” she said, slowly chipping away at his excuses. “Why, Dean?”

He was not ready to tell her, but it came out easy, three little words, “I was scared.”

Charlie softened, “Of what?”

“Him changing his mind. Deciding that he never liked me at all. Thinking he’d made a mistake.” _Wow. Well done, dude. This is the week of opening up to folks ain’t it? Bang on._

“Dean, which do you think the worst mistake is? Sleeping with the guy who leaves you in his dorm room or sleeping with the guy who wakes you up gently and says that ‘he really wants to see you again but he has to go, but you can totally stay if you want’?”

Dean could only sigh and admit, “The second one.”

“Let me ask you this, was becoming his friend a mistake?”

Dean’s eyes widened. “No. Not at all!”

“Then why are you giving that up?”

Dean looked up at her, confused. “I don’t know.”

She clapped him on the shoulder, “Well, you mull it over, and in the meanwhile, tell me about the Wright brothers.”

______________

 

Monday was no better for Castiel. Monday meant practice and that was something he was not interested in in the slightest. Rowing his heart out could serve as a distraction from his personal dilemmas, but the opposite could also be true. It was up to Cas to decide what he was going to do, and he didn’t want to make that choice. He just wanted to go home and sleep. Still, he pulled into the lot next to the shellhouse, grabbed his bag and mentally prepared himself for a morning of pulling his weight in the boat, whether he liked it or not.

What Cas had not prepared himself for was sitting down in the stretching circle that had formed, and Ketch turning to him and asking, “Where’s your boyfriend, Castiel?”

Cas, dumbfounded, followed a confusing train of thought that went something like this, _He means Dean. Why would Dean be here? Dean plays baseball, he doesn’t row. Also, Dean isn’t my boyfriend. Why does_ he _think Dean is my boyfriend? Oh._ Confusion was quickly replaced by dread as Castiel remembered that, in attendance to the party Saturday, had been Ketch’s good friend, Mick.

“Dean isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Ah. Disappointing.” Then Ketch turned back to his stretches.

“Why?”

“You two would have made a… pleasant couple.” He looked over at Cas’ face, which was most  likely showing all the shock he felt, and elaborated. “I have a strong distaste for the both of you, but I am not blind, Castiel.” Then, having made his point and caused Cas to be utterly shellshocked, he looked at whoever was on the other side of him and began a conversation there.

Cas thought that was the end of it, he really did, but then Ketch decided to scream at him from across the boat twenty minutes later.

“Castiel!” he yelled the second they began to coast across the water. “You slept with him didn’t you?”

Castiel watched as seven pairs of eyes turned to fix him with a look and almost choked on his water.

Before Cas could say anything, Samandriel’s voice crackled across the speakers in the boat, “What the _fuck_ , Arthur?”

“I’m simply asking.”

“And the rest of us are trying to row before it gets too damn cold,” the four seat, Bart, said, addressing both of them.

“Thank you, Bartholomew.” Cas nodded his way and dropped his water bottle back in the footwell, prepared to row again, but _apparently_ the conversation wasn’t over.

Bartholomew turned back to him, a little bit of anger and a little bit of taunting humor glinting dangerously in his eyes. “You’re not off the hook, Castiel. If this ‘him’ is who I think he is, then I hope you did fuck him, because for the past month you’ve been a giggling, distracted mess, and that’s not okay.”

Castiel just stared, open mouthed, unsure of what to do. He knew he should probably be angry, but was what they were saying true? Had it been that obvious? Did he need to check himself? _Shit_.

“Boys!” A voice loudened by a megaphone carried across the water, catching the attention of all nine people in the shell. Powering towards them, in a little white boat, was their coach, Naomi, and she was pissed. “You haven’t been rowing for five minutes, that’s unacceptable, get back to it.” Each of them grabbed their oars and set off across the water.

It wasn’t until half an hour later that Cas really grasped what they were saying. All eight of them, maximum effort, and the rhythm of it all distracted him.

“Six, watch stroke,” Samandriel warned, but he didn’t hear. When he shouted his name though, out of pure surprise, Cas stopped, his oar halting completely in the water. It would have been fine if the boat had been moving slower, instead, their momentum through the water pulled Cas’ oar with it, and it swung around to hit Cas square on the chest. Despite his feet being strapped into the boat, he could feel himself hitting his head on the rigging of his oar. Seconds later, he found himself with a face full of lake water. His instincts kicked in quick and he stayed under until the boat passed, but he was met with eight angry stares when he surfaced.

“I think I understand what you mean by ‘distracted’ now.”

_____________________

 

Both Cas and Dean made a choice Monday night. Neither of them knew how to act on those choices, but after 3 days of wallowing in their own sorrow like pitiful teen movie protagonists, and Cas nursing a hearty concussion, Friday found them walking through Gasworks park with their friends, separately of course.

 

Dean and Benny had been getting lunch at Blue Moon, and decided to burn off the calories with a fifteen minute walk, something Dean would never have agreed to if practice didn’t start in a month. Now, they were walking on the hill by the water, and Dean was silently wondering if Cas was rowing today.

“Hey, brother, you want a fry?” Benny asked, holding one out to his friend.

Dean took it with a laugh, “You’ve still got some left over?”

“Hey, just ‘cause I didn’t inhale mine, doesn’t mean you gotta ride your high horse next to me.”

Dean just shrugged, after all, Benny wasn’t wrong, Dean had finished his food in minutes, but their respective eating habits weren’t why they were walking around in the gray. “How’re classes?” Dean asked, “It’s been a while.”

“Don’t I know it,” Benny mumbled.

Dean could feel the guilt tumbling around in his stomach. “Look, man, I’m so sorry we haven’t—”

“Don’t worry about it, romance’s somethin’ you gotta pursue,” Benny said with a wave of his hand, still, Dean didn’t feel too good about ignoring the rest of his life for something that hadn’t even panned out in the end, and he said as much. “Look.” Benny leveled him with a stare. “That ain’t why we’re here, just hang out with me, then we’ll be a-okay.”

Dean nodded and took a sip from the milkshake he still carried with him. He looked around him and his eyes landed on a substantially sized stone a few steps from him. Being the person he was, he picked it up and hurled it into Lake Union. Benny followed suit with a rock to their right, and they started a competition of sorts, seeing who could chuck the rocks further. Every couple of seconds, one would ask the other a question, and they passed the time and caught up just like that, no emotions, no bitterness, just back into having fun, and Dean had to admit, he was glad to not be thinking about Cas.

_____________________

 

At the same the stones landed in the lake, Charlie and Cas were on the other side of the park. Cas “didn’t even want to look at the water”, in his words, but he “needed to do something minimally active”, in the words of his coach, so there they were, walking and clutching a lot of caffeine.

“You gotta talk to him,” Charlie was saying, “closure, remember?”

Cas nodded. “Yes, I remember, but I’m not going to seek him out to talk to him, I’ll speak to him if the opportunity arises.”

The sigh that came from Charlie was an obvious sign of her distaste for that solution, but, as Cas was keen to remind her, she was his friend, so she went alone with his plans, crazy or not. But the opposite was also true.

“Will you let me take a picture of you in front of the water?”

“And resurface a moment of my deepest embarrassment? Sure, Charlie.”

She turned to look at him, “You never peed your pants in elementary school? Weird.” She laughed at herself, before beginning her trek up the hill.

Cas jogged to catch up. “Why are we doing this?”

“My photography elective,” she gestured to herself, “because I wanna be a ‘well rounded individual’ or whatever, needs a portrait photo, so I’m picking you, pretty boy.” She punctuated her statement with a violent point.

“I’m not pretty,” Cas countered.

“Fine, hottie.”

He gave up then, realizing it was pointless and he should probably just take the damn photo before she came up with far more vulgar ways to express his attractiveness.

“If I fall and get another concussion that’s on you,” he said with an equally punctual point in her direction.

“You won’t get another concussion, you’re barely over the first one, you’ll get concussion syndrome, which, objectively, is worse.”

Well, Cas should have known better than to banter with the medicinal technology major. Defeated, he followed her pointing until he was at the top of the hill, back still to the water. The park was actually really pretty, green grass, people flying kites, the old steamplant, made for a good picture. “You should take your photo of this,” Cas suggested.

“If you wanna turn around and face the water, I’m happy to,” Charlie countered, condescension dripping from her voice. “You didn’t even do it in this lake, you fell into that lake.” She pointed east.

  
With a sigh, Cas turned around and looked out at the water. “There’s a lot of cranes.”

“They’re a staple of the city, Castiel, if you don’t like ‘em, look elsewhere.”

There wasn’t much else to look at except crew shells not unlike his and blue open lake. And the people. There was a family on a blanket, a kid and her dad flying a kite, a very obvious couple doing unsavory things on a bench, and two guys, about his age, chucking rocks into the water.

Cas watched them as Charlie took pictures from every angle. They were laughing, enjoying themselves, and it made Cas’ heart hurt a little. _Was I the reason he left? Is there something wrong with me? No, we are not thinking about this._ Cas pulled himself together, he’d made his choice, and he didn’t need to think about Dean anymore, but couldn’t draw his eyes away from the guys at the water’s edge. _Am I thinking about him too much or does that guy actually look like D- Oh, no._ And then, with some awful sort of instinct from some awful part of his brain, probably the concussed part, he decided to fall to the ground. Just collapsed down to his hands and knees, glaring angrily at Charlie’s, rightfully, confused expression. With a scared finger he directed her gaze to Dean and the other guy down by the water. Charlie pointed back at Dean.

“Go.”

“No!” Cas whispered as loud as he could.

“Okay, one,” Charlie said, speaking in a normal voice and holding out a hand, “he’s not gonna see you if you stand like a normal person.” She pulled him up so they were standing face to face. “And two, I believe you said you’d go talk to him,” she cleared her throat and pitched her voice down to mimic Castiel, “‘if the opportunity arises.’ God, you’re pedantic, anyways, go talk to him!”

“No, Charlie, I can’t fucking talk to him!” He started to pace in a small circle, until Charlie’s steadying hand landed on his shoulder.

“Castiel Novak, get your shit together. It’s not like he’s gonna come over…” She trailed off, looking past Cas at something behind him. Cas had a guess that he didn’t want confirmed.

“Hey, Cas.” And there was the dreaded confirmation.

Cas turned, wary of everything. “Hello, Dean.”

____________________

 

“Yo, Dean, the guy over there just collapsed,” Benny said, pointing.

Interested, Dean turned to catch a dark haired guy kneeling on the ground and a girl next to him pointing in their direction. The guy, if Dean was being honest, looked a little familiar, and with the sweatshirt he was in, he looked a little like Cas. _Oh, shit, that_ is _Cas_ . Dean was tempted to drop to _his_ hands and knees, but instead he whirled around to Benny, panic obvious on his face.

“Go talk to him,” Benny suggested, to Dean’s utter shock.

“But, man, we just…” Unable to articulate his thoughts, he just gestured to the park.

“Romance, buddy, pursue it,” Benny said with an emphasizing point towards Cas’ figure.

Dean looked his friend directly in the eyes, “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Dean took a breath and turned to walk up the hill. He was pretty sure Cas didn’t know he was there, too focused on panicking, so when Cas tensed when he spoke, he chalked it up to shock.

“Hey, Cas.”

Cas turned slowly, and Dean almost, _almost,_ melted when they made eye contact. _Not right now, man. You gotta, ya know, speak to him. With words. Not your dick. That was what messed this up last time. Focus._

“Hello, Dean.”

_Here we go._

__________________

 

It took a few seconds of scared staring before Charlie cleared her throat, “So, I’m gonna go. You guys go ahead and...talk.”

Both of their eyes trailed after her, and slowly met back in the middle in a swirling mix of fear, anxiety, and impatience.

“Hi,” Dean said, barely a breath.

“We already did pleasantries, Dean. Maybe we should talk.” Cas was all business, emotionless, clipped tones and no nonsense, and he could see in Dean's eyes and the way he almost stepped back at little that he was hurt by it, but maybe, maybe, the more professional this interaction was, the less it would hurt. Cas could only hope.

Dean, on hearing Cas’ professional attitude seep from his words, felt his hope deflate a little. His resolve however, stiffened. If it was professional Cas wanted, professional he would get.

“We should.”

And then, it started raining. Not just sprinkling, but one of those storms that just happened. A squall. The perfect symbolism, but neither of them wanted to stand in the symbolism, so they started running. Dean ran towards his car, and Cas in some other direction that was very much not towards the impala.

“Dude!” Dean called after him. He ran after, bringing his jacket above his head to form some sort of shelter.

Cas turned on a dime, staring curiously at Dean as the rain hit his face and darkened the purple of his sweatshirt. “What?” Cas threw his hands up at the rain as if to suggest the conversation was over because of Mother Nature and her antics.

“C’mon!” Dean jogged over to him, now shielding the both of them from the downpour as they ran to Dean’s car together.

As they stood there and Dean unlocked the door, Cas stood, just short of petrified, unsure of what to do. When Dean held the door open for him, he didn’t move an inch.

“Get in, it’s leather and I’m not letting my seats get ruined.”

Silently, because his words would be drowned by the rain, Cas climbed in the car, not daring to speak until the door slammed behind Dean and they were sitting side by side, the sound of the rain on the roof the only thing between them and a silence nothing short of unbearable.

“Dean,” Cas started as the other man turned the key in the ignition.

“Shut up, Cas,” Dean said, turning to him with soft eyes that juxtaposed the words from his mouth so starkly that Cas was sure he was looking at someone else. “Rain doesn’t stop anyone else in this fucking city, and we need to have this conversation, so it sure isn’t stopping us.”

Cas nodded. It was time to stop running away. For both of them. Dean just happened to have a little more self control than Cas right about now. Still, both of them were in the car, on the way to somewhere only Dean knew, so running away was no longer an option. It was time to pull his shit together and confront both his feelings and the man on his left, he just didn’t have to do it right yet.

He made the executive decision to stare out the window at the rain for the entirety of the ten minute drive, so he didn’t see where Dean had stopped the car. It was a Starbucks, or rather, _the_ Starbucks on Stevens Way Northeast and near Jefferson Road Northeast. It was fitting and it made Cas emotional, so he suppressed the nostalgia, if you could even call it that, and walked into the coffee shop.

“Now remember,” Dean said with a cheeky grin and a little more than a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, “you can order whatever you want, I’m buying, but you can’t yell at me, this is a public space.”

“That’s wasn’t on the docket, Dean.” And Cas has to laugh because, fuck, this was Dean Winchester, a guy he hadn’t seen in almost a week, and no matter how much of a bad idea this relapse of sorts was, he was enjoying himself. “I’ll have a tall black coffee, and he’ll have a grande peppermint latte.”

“I’ll have a _what_ now?”

“Grande peppermint latte. Please, keep up, Dean,” he said, leading him to the counter.

There was a beat where neither of them knew what to say and a beat later Dean said, “You look good, Cas.”

“Well I look good in everything,” Cas said, without hesitation.

Dean could only put his head in his hands in shame. “That was four weeks ago!”

“I’m petty like that.” The barista called his name and Dean jumped on the opportunity to retaliate.

“That’s gross, by the way.” Okay, so a super weak retaliation, but one still.

“You ordered a peppermint latte.”

“I didn’t order—“

“You ordered the latte and you will enjoy it.” There was no to it question, not in the statement nor concerning the pure amusement behind Cas’ eyes.

Dean’s latte, that he refused to admit was good, came up a minute later and they made their way to a table. Dean could almost hear the clock strike twelve. It was make it or break it, and fuck, he was so close to breaking it.

“We should talk.” They both said it. And then Cas’, “Yes” collided with Dean’s, “Yeah” And despite the noise the populated coffee shop should have created, the world around them fell silent. They spoke together. Two dangerous statements, two guns in what should have even been a knife fight.

Dean’s meek question of, “Will you go out with me?” rang through Cas’ head and Cas’ statement that, “We shouldn’t be friends.” tore a motherfucking hole in Dean’s heart.

“I should go.” And then Dean was grabbing his coffee and walking out the door. Cas’ desperate pleas couldn’t stop him, all he wanted to do right now was slam his car door and lock it behind him. Put all of it behind him. He wanted to leave his thoughts, his choices, and Cas behind him.

_You made the first mistake. It’s your fault. You’re why he thinks that. If you hadn’t done what you did maybe it could’ve been better._

It took everything in his power not to put the gas pedal to the floor and just crash into the nearest thing that would silence his brain. _Fuck._ _Maybe he’s right. Maybe you should give up_. It hurt in the depths of his heart to admit it, but maybe this crush was dangerous, maybe he should leave well enough alone and let Cas go about his life.

_Breathe, man. Breathe._ That little mantra was the last little bit he needed. He started crying. _You can’t drive and cry._ He pulled over. _What the_ fuck _am I going to do now?_ His sole focus lately had been Cas Novak and that had just been ripped to shreds in front of his eyes. How do you move on from that?

____________________

 

Cas sat there dumbfounded. _What the hell am I going to do?_ He’d just made a mistake, a very big one, and now Dean Winchester was out of sight and in the front of his mind, and he didn’t know where to go from here. Hearing Dean ask him out was earth-shattering, and Cas didn’t have time to backtrack and now here he was, victim to misunderstanding and very much alone. Well, there was one thing he could do.

 

**Castiel: Is your dorm unlocked?** **  
**  


Thankfully for the impatience that burned through Castiel’s whole body, his phone lit up next to him within the minute.

 

**Kevin Tran: Dean was the last one to leave this morning so probably.**

 

Cas breathed a sigh of relief. He had a plan. A plan that might end in complete chaos, but a plan nonetheless.

____________________

 

Sitting in his car for more than an hour was probably not the smartest, nor the safest plan, so Dean decided it was best if he wallowed in his sadness on his bed like a normal person. Kevin was out tonight with his girlfriend, _Lucky bastard_ , so Dean had the whole space to himself and if coping meant watching rom-coms in the privacy of his own dorm, then coping he would do.

____________________

 

 

 

When Dean walked through the door, Cas was wringing his hands together and sitting criss-crossed on Dean’s bed. He stood, almost immediately, and Dean, in turn, walked back out the door.

“Dean,” Cas kept level tone, despite the pure turmoil that was destroying his brain. “Wait, please.”

He kept walking. He kept walking until he was walking down the stairs and out the building and Cas was still following him. Finally, Dean turned around.

“Stop fucking following me, Cas.” He was angry. Cas didn’t know why, and he didn’t know it but neither did Dean.

“No, Dean, please, just listen.”

“Listen to you break my fucking heart again? No thanks,” Dean scoffed, folding his arms, unconsciously protecting all of himself from whatever Cas might say.

Cas took a wary step forward. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“Don’t,” Dean’s voice broke a little, “don’t finish, please. Just let me go.”

“And where are you going to go, Dean? It’s raining.”

Dean looked down, as if for the first time noticing the water collecting on his grey zip up.

“What do you want to say, Cas?”

“I don’t think we should be friends, because I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh, great, thanks. I’m really glad I waited to hear that. Really, the elaboration helped a great deal,” Dean mumbled as he walked back towards the building and past Castiel.

Not turning towards him, Cas took a chance. “I don’t want to be your friend, I want to be your fucking boyfriend.”

The sound of Dean’s boots on the wet pavement halted. “What?” The question was small, broken, and shocked almost to silence. They turned. They locked eyes and Dean felt tears start to prick at the corners of his own. “Say that again right now, Castiel.”

Cas laughed, he was smiling now, he’d said it, now it was time to put it _all_ on the table. “I said, I didn’t think we should be friends, because for the past two months all that’s been on my mind has been _you_ . I started to like you, and then I started to miss you, and then you left me in your goddamn dorm room and I _wanted_ to hate you, except I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And then I got a concussion from thinking about you and I decided that maybe I should give up. And then you said you wanted to go out with me? It was confusing and my brain couldn’t catch up, and then you were gone. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be your friend. I want to be your boyfriend.”

Dean took a few steps toward Cas and put his hands on his biceps, clinging so tight, like he thought Cas might flee. “Will you go out with me?”

He asked it with all the emotion of a goddamn marriage proposal and Cas could only return in kind. “Yes.” And instead of kissing him, Dean pulled him into a hug that felt like they hadn’t seen each other in years.

“I’ve been waiting two fucking months to hear you say that,” he whispered into Cas’ shoulder.

And then Cas lost his self-control and let himself be petty. “Then don’t leave me in your room next time.”

Dean pulled away and looked down in shame but his hands never left Cas. “I’m so sorry, Cas. I had to leave and I was going to wake you up but I didn’t want you to wake up and say, ‘That was great, see you never’.” His hands trailed up to fuss with the collar of Cas’ shirt, avoiding looking into his eyes. “I was just so scared that you were only in it for the night and I didn’t want to wake you up and have to talk to you and hear you say that you didn’t like me back. I didn’t have the time to beg you to stay so I left and I’m sorry. I was just scared of all the…” He trailed off.

“Emotions?” Cas finished with a little smile. “Weird coming from the man crying as of this moment.”

“I’m not crying. It’s raining.”

“Oh yeah?” Cas wiped a gentle thumb over Dean cheek and held it up for him to see the clearly not-rain tears there.

“Shut up.”

Cas took one more turn to be cheeky, “Only if you kiss me.”

So he did.

___________________

 

“Dean, it’s raining.”

“Huh?” Dean looked at Cas, smitten, although he would never admit it.

“It’s raining.” Cas looked down at him with a mix of fond affection and discomfort, probably due to the rain. “We should go inside.” And then, oh and then, Cas grabbed Dean’s hand and led him up to Dean’s room like he owned the place.

They walked in quietly. The only sounds were the soft click of the door and the rain beating against the window and it felt eerily calm. An odd juxtaposition to the past two hours.

Cas pulled Dean by the wrist until they stood opposite each other. He let his hand just rest, almost cradling, the back of Dean’s head. “Thank you,” he whispered, looking into Dean’s eyes, trying to convey all he meant by the two words.

“Thank you? For what?”

“Listening,” Cas said quietly. “Waiting.”

“I would’ve waited forever,” Dean said simply. He would have but was he glad he didn’t have to.

Cas looked at Dean, the words on his lips soft and distracted, his focus obviously not on the words, but on Dean. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Of course you can.”

They met in the middle and it was the opposite of their first kiss however many weeks ago. Instead of urgent, it was deliberate and instead of heated and panicked, it was soft and assured.

“To be clear,” Cas said, pulling away, “I am not sleeping with you tonight.”

Dean laughed, keeping his sudden disappointment, or whatever it was, restrained. He didn’t want to have sex with Cas that night either, but he was drowned by a wave of self consciousness when Cas said it.

Cas obviously picked up on something because he pulled a little farther away, completely out of Dean’s space, and looked him in the eyes.

“We will, uhm, you know,” Cas mumbled, suddenly flustered, “but I’d like to go a little slower.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Can I still kiss you?”

“Of course you can,” Cas said, parroting Dean’s words from before.

Dean moved closer to Cas, once again sharing the air between them, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips and one on the corner of his mouth before moving to kiss along Cas’ jaw. Cas returned in kind, until stilling against Dean’s, well, persistent affection.

The words out of his mouth, that felt something like a cold shower, were, “Do you want to watch a movie?”

Dean pulled away. His feelings of being disgraced were clear on his face but he responded with snark. “There’s a vibe we’ve got going and that,” he gestured, “kinda ruins it. Why did you….?” He trailed off, waiting for Cas to answer.

“Well you can’t keep kissing me forever.”

“You underestimate me, Castiel.”

Cas just laughed. “It’s somewhat awkward just kissing you next to the door. If we’re watching a movie then we’re on the bed- don’t wink at me it’s more comfortable- and if you do get bored then we can just watch the movie.”

He was met with a shrug and watched as Dean walked over to the bed. “My laptop’s on my desk, will you grab it?”

Cas looked around him and quickly found the computer. He opened it and logged into Dean’s profile almost as quickly as he’d done with Dean’s phone.

Regarding Dean’s shocked face, Cas mentioned that, “‘Chevy1967’ is no less original, Dean,” before falling into an amused silence at what he saw on Dean’s laptop.

Dean, panicked, because what the fuck had Cas seen, stood to look at his screen.

“You were watching romantic comedies? Or, more specifically, romantic comedy singular.” Dean felt his face convulse out of emabarrasment as Cas spoke, “You were watching _This Means War_ starring,” he clicked on the screen, “Reese Witherspoon, Chris Pine, and oh,” realization flashed across his face, “Tom Hardy.” He threw an over-dramatic wink at Dean.

“Okay, shut up,” Dean snapped, snatching the computer back from him.

Cas raised his hands in mock-surrender, “You do what you will, I’m not judging.”

“Let’s just watch the movie,” Dean muttered.

“Dean,” Cas chided, still laughing a little. He walked over to where Dean had moved next to the bed and took his hand. Pressing a light kiss to his cheek, Cas climbed onto the small twin and pulled Dean down with him. “Let’s watch the movie.”

Cas settled onto his side, the laptop in front of him, but Dean remained seated, legs crossed, a good foot away from Cas. He raised a confused eyebrow and Dean took the hint to explain his immobility.

“If kissing is here,” he held out his left hand, “and sex is here,” he held out his right, “where does cuddling fall?”

Cas almost laughed at the question posed with such innocence. Instead, he held out a hand just outside of Dean’s left one. “More than fine,” he said.

Dean moved in close to Cas’ side, putting the laptop in front of them, and finally let himself relax. It was a bad and very cheesy movie and sure he had to give Cas a run down of the previous thirty minutes, but they were both there, enjoying themselves. No pressure, no confusion, just them and a movie. It was great.

For the next hour, Cas had his arm around Dean’s middle as the other man laid next to him on the bed. If he was being honest, despite it being cheesy, the movie was good, and he could see why Dean enjoyed it. Cas though, he mostly enjoyed just laying next to Dean, looking at the profile of his face as he laughed and neared happy tears that he’d certainly make Cas take to his grave. When he glanced down as the credits started to roll, he noticed that Dean had fallen asleep, his breathing even and his face relaxed. Cas couldn’t help but stare for a minute, grateful they’d figured it all out for both of their sakes. A second later though, he was running a hand through Dean’s hair, gently waking him.

Dean blinked awake, suddenly aware of, and a little surprised by, the form next to him, holding him. “Hi,” he mumbled, still very close to being asleep.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean just smiled at Cas, turning over in his arms until they were facing each other.

“Tired?”

Cas could make out some affirmative murmuring as Dean buried his face into Cas’ shoulder.

“Emotionally drained, are we?”

He could feel Dean shake his head and Cas laughed in return. Dean continued the conversation, all with his face hidden in Cas’ shoulder. “Will you sleep with me?”

“We agreed not to-” His sentence went interrupted by Dean’s hand landing halting little kitten-slaps on his biceps.

“I mean actually sleep, dumbass. Take a fucking nap with me and let me lay on your far too muscular chest.” Then there was a finger poking at his sternum.

“Sure, Dean, I’ll do that with you,” Cas agreed. After moving the laptop to the floor, he turned onto his back to offer up as much “muscular chest” real estate to Dean as he could.

Dean barely moved except to grab Cas’ right hand and pull it close to his face like he was clutching a childhood teddy bear, or at least with that same possessive nature. Cas was pretty sure, like all the times his mom tried to wash his security blanket, Dean was not going to let go of his hand anytime soon. Whatever, he could deal with a little aggressive hand holding from time to time.

Dean was asleep in seconds, and Cas followed soon after, both ready to wake up with the other one there.

___________________

 

Cas woke up cold. There was no warm figure next to him, no fingers intertwined with his own. Instead, when he opened his eyes, the warm figure was standing at the door, all wrinkled jeans and messy hair, trying to push someone away.

In a hushed and insistent voice, Dean spoke, “Take your wallet, Kevin, leave us alone.”

“Why?” Kevin asked, just this side of teasing. “Is he sleeping?”

“Yes,” Dean hissed, pushing the door against Kevin.

“Alright,” Kevin conceded, but before Dean could close the door, he shouted something else. “Have fun with your boyfriend, Dean!”

Dean clicked the door shut, a grimace clear on his face. He turned to a now undoubtedly awake Cas and his face contorted more out of embarrassment.

“Goodmorning, Dean.”

“It’s eight thirty at night.”

  
“Ah.” Cas nodded, falling into the silence that had engulfed the room.

Climbing back onto the bed, Dean whispered, “Sorry for the interruption.” He pressed a light kiss to Cas lips that Cas smiled into.

“I don’t mind. It was brief.”

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He looked up at his boyfriend, who sat on the edge of the bed, wary for some odd reason.

“Will you stay the night? I’ve got an extra pair of sweats if you want and seeing as you’re my boyfriend now, it might be nice. I promise I won’t leave you in here alone again, cause like, you’re my boyfriend, and I wouldn’t do that to my boyfriend, so, would you?”

Cas grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him, once again, onto the mattress. “Of course I’ll stay the night.”

And Dean smiled so bright, Cas’ heart skipped a beat. It felt perfect, having come so far from friends to nothing to this. That night, Cas fell asleep in Dean’s dorm room and woke up the next morning to Dean by his side, tucked close and sleeping soundly. Cas couldn’t help but pull him a little closer. Now that he had this, he never wanted to let it go.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions? Because I'm incoherent? Ask me! I'm [hhoneycas](https://hhoneycas.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and the comments section is free for public use.
> 
> As always, I thrive on feedback so let me know what you thought and I'll love you forever! Thank you so much for reading!


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